By Any Means Necessary
by Batmanskipper
Summary: Set after Escape attempt 53: to bring Doris' murderer to justice, Kowalski is forced to break Blowhole out of jail forming another unsteady alliance. Pitted against a corrupt investigator, Penguin superiors who are reluctant to get involved, and the team that replaced him, things get twice as complicated when when Hans reappears.
1. Enemy of My Enemy

1961

Kowalski had barely closed the door of Buck Rockgut's empty office behind him when he moved swiftly to the window and climbed out of it. Up till now, his actions had seemed normal enough for the penguin who was closest to the description of absent minded professor. After all, if he could forget about the maguffium on the Bunsen burner, he could forgetfully trip off the high tech security system in Buck Rockgut's West Berlin office? At least, that's what he was counting on Rockgut's secretary to assume after he'd marched into his yet to arrive superior's office purporting to be tired of waiting and called through the door he'd locked immediately afterwards that he was putting the top secret documents he was carrying in the safe. "Don't worry, I'm a genius, I can work out the combination!" He'd called cheerfully back at the secretary's protests as he walked past the safe and climbed out of the window.

Out of his bag he'd then removed what looked like a magician's baton. With the press of a button it extended like an umbrella, hitting the side of the safe with a hollow tap, right where Kowalski knew one of the high tech sensors (which he'd designed) was situated. Alarms sounded and metal bars slammed down over the windows a few inches from his toes and a steel door locked in front of the unassuming wooden one. "Great science!" Kowalski yelled as if he was surprised by the result, and pressing the button again, the device retracted. Kowalski immediately started to climb along the side of the building up towards the roof, doing his best to avoid being spotted.

For Penguin's continental field headquarters, the roof was surprisingly accessible and Kowalski easily climbed across to the next rooftop. He climbed down the fire escape to where his transportation awaited him.

* * *

"Well I'm terribly sorry, but it's simply not my problem anymore!" Private protested, doing his best to seem angry, all the while feeling rather silly in his slightly oversized delivery man's outfit. He motioned to the truck beside which the ornate white marble and gold larger than life statue of Odysseus rested.

"Like I said before, this is a maximum security prison, not an art gallery." The guard countered for the second time.

"I can see that," Private countered, "And certainly I thought it strange to deliver the statue here of all places, but it's not my job to wonder why, simply to haul the rock from point A to point B - if you don't mind my saying so." Private began to walk away. Kowalski's script insisted that he push the point further, but Private strongly disliked arguing, and didn't want to unnecessarily extend the unpleasant situation. "But you ordered it," Private motioned to the forged work order, "So now it's your problem; there's nothing I can do about it, my shift just ended."

"Can't you take it back to wherever it came from?" The guard demanded exasperatedly.

"Warehouse is closed." Private shrugged, "Certainly, I could take it home with me, but if it gets stolen, that's on you."

Private and Rico left the guard at a loss for words, driving off in the truck and leaving the unfortunate man with the golden statue. For a moment he stared it in utter dismay, and while still uncertain of what was eventually going to happen to it, he knew it couldn't sit outside the service entrance. Reluctantly the statue was covered with a tarp and carried into the prison where it was set down in a spare room near the guardroom while it's surprise caretaker left to find out what he was supposed to do with it.

Muffled by the tarp there was a soft click and half the statue opened like a door, just a crack. Kowalski gave the statue another shove against the heavy tarp, finally getting it open barely wide enough for him to slip through the gap, close the hollow statue he'd entered in, and crawl out from under the infernal tarp he rather awkwardly hadn't anticipated. At least they hadn't put him in a crate. Kowalski brushed off his counterfeit prison uniform, and glanced at his watch before abandoning it in the statue. He counted down the two minutes till the assigned time, then stepped out into the hallway just in time to be caught by a guard returning from his shift.

Kowalski found it somewhat humorous as the guard demanded how he got out of his cell and just how he'd been attempting to escape. During the war he and the team had spent well over a year mostly under false names attempting to escape from Dr Blowhole's POW camp. Now he was assuming a current inmate's identity to break into a prison on his side. While Kowalski was being identified by the number on his uniform, he slipped a small egg shaped ball of grey clay out of his pocket which he pressed against the grey concrete wall behind him, unnoticed. A few seconds after he'd completed the action, Kowalski was searched. Nothing was found. A choice, psychologically chosen insult and Kowalski was roughly shoved back against the wall. He retrieved the lump of clay, slipping it back into his pocket before his hands were cuffed behind him and he was marched off to solitary.

The door slammed shut with a heavy metal clang and once again Kowalski retrieved that lump of clay from his pocket. Tearing the clay away Kowalski dug out a little metal case containing all the tools he'd need to circumnavigate the lock on the cell. He approached the door, tools in hand, then paused, uncertain. In the lid of the case was a crumpled slip of paper he'd brought along just for such a breakdown in morale. Kowalski took the crumpled telegram out of the case, reading it through one last time. It stated plain and simple that the request to have Blowhole placed into his custody had been denied. Kowalski put the telegram and the case back into his pocket. If he couldn't borrow Blowhole officially, Blowhole would just have to 'escape' to New York where when he'd be 'captured' he'd be in Kowalski's custody.

Kowalski had practiced again and again opening from the inside locks of the same model as those used in the prison, so opened the door with relative ease and just enough noise to attract a guard. Just one guard. The guard knocked twice, demanding what was going on in there, and on the third knock, Kowalski pulled him into the cell. Thirty seconds later Kowalski strolled out of the cell in a guard's uniform. Kowalski was pleased with his plan so far as he continued down the solitary cell block where he'd been told Blowhole had recently been placed.

Kowalski quickly found Blowhole's cell, getting nowhere near the amount of time he'd hoped to get to think about what he was about to say than he'd expected. Attempting to distract himself from the serious with the trivial, Kowalski used up a moment of the little thinking time he had to thoroughly curse the formula that had informed him he could read on the plane and plan later.

Still engrossed in his own thoughts, Kowalski unlocked the door and was only brought completely back to reality when the heavy metal door shut behind him with an ominous clang. Blowhole looked up with a vaguely amused expression of surprise.

"Well, well, well, if it isn't the pen-gu-in?" Dr Blowhole spoke, trying to appear bored or at least nonchalant, but in truth he didn't get many visitors. Rarely Penguins. "Look where we both are now. It seems you were right about the outcome of the war, though on the other hand you never did get that nice research job back from Nigel – I heard they put you in the field. From what I've heard it's been mostly downhill for you from there."

"Says the guy serving a life sentence for what you did to Manfredi and Johnson." Kowalski replied, his tone making it clear he wasn't in the mood for banter. Frankly, he didn't even really care how Blowhole had gotten the information on his circumstances since the war had ended. However, it was clear from the arch villain's demeanour that he didn't know what Kowalski was about to tell him. Blowhole's crimes might be unforgivable, but he wasn't entirely without feeling for certain people.

"Well, I believe the year is 1961, so it's been, what, 16 years now since the last time I've seen one of your little team. What could I have possibly done from in here to warrant this unofficial visit, since I doubt you've been demoted to working here yet?" Clearly Blowhole was up to something and hoping Kowalski wasn't on to it, but that was almost certainly unimportant at the moment. "Well, what kind of cases are you working on these days, at least for starters?"

"If you know about my current status, you already know most of it, so I'm not going to waste your time." Kowalski replied seriously. Might as well get right to the point. "I'm here to give you good news and bad news. What do you want to hear first?"

"Good news first, since that's probably what you didn't want me to pick." Blowhole replied with a smirk, "I can still read your lesser intellect like a book."

"Suit yourself, but I predict you're going to find it much more difficult to understand it this way," Kowalski replied. Blowhole scoffed something to the effect that he was just trying to cover up the slip up. But Kowalski didn't feel like fighting him on that. Kowalski took out a thin document folded in the little case, "I've been authorized to offer you the opportunity to assist Penguin on a case. Remember Alius? He's come a long way since you last saw him escaping from your camp?"

"Your nickname for your counterpart on Nigel's replacement team?" Blowhole replied, "I'm incarcerated, not completely cut off from reality. Yes, I've heard he runs most of New York's criminal underworld now. Went power mad during an undercover operation, killed or drove away the rest of his team. He certainly has come a long way. Not to mention he stole my sister from you."

"Yes." Kowalski replied, his expression darkening noticeably.

"Still can't let it go to this day." Blowhole smiled mockingly, "Ever consider moving on…?"

"I told Nigel there was something about Alius that was unstable, for all he listened to me." Kowalski interrupted, "Hans had way too high an opinion of him. Regardless, the objective of this operation is to remove him and his organization." Blowhole's glib smile only increased, since it was clear Kowalski had taken Doris' decision even worse than Blowhole had expected. "We'll fly you out to New York, you'll do your part, and we'll send you back."

"Do I get any kind of time off my sentence?"

"No."

"Any privileges? I could use access to a lab…?"

"Completely out of the question."

"Then why in the vast knowledge of science do you think I'd help you?" Blowhole laughed, "Impossibly enough I think becoming a field agent has made you even more naive than Private."

"The bad news would be your incentive, though clearly not a positive one, it's one you'll understand very well." Something in Kowalski's voice told Blowhole whatever it was, was serious. He settled back in his chair with a grudging sigh. "One thing I will admit you're an expert on is persistence in seeking revenge."

"Alright, go ahead; it's not like my time's all that precious these days." Kowalski at first said nothing, staring at the document that contained the agreement Blowhole was extremely unwilling to sign. "Any time this decade?"

"Look, I'm not sure how I'm supposed to put this to you." Kowalski snapped, "Frankly, sometimes I think giving you life was too lenient, but my principles say…"

"It's nice to know I'm not forgotten." Blowhole commented. Kowalski's glare increased tenfold when he noticed Blowhole was still smiling.

"Alright, you want it this way: your sister's dead." Blowhole's smile immediately disappeared. For a moment his initial expression of pure shock and grief wavered as he searched for any way to question Kowalski's sincerity, but Kowalski's pained expression was real. "At least three people had tried to cover it up before I got to the scene, but Alius killed her."

"The other Kowalski?" Blowhole scoffed, latching on to an opportunity to doubt what he was being told, "That's ridiculous, he is, amazingly, more devoted to her than you are. Look, if she's just disappeared, good for her, but…"

"There's a body, Blowhole, there's no doubt it was her or that there's a bullet lodged just next to her heart. Don't believe me, just smuggle in a newspaper or ask one of your 'sources'." After a moment where neither of them moved or spoke, Blowhole slowly nodded. Kowalski handed him the document and a pen, "Initial all the pages of the agreement and sign it. Then I'll get you out of here."


	2. Means and Motive

"Wait a minute, this is a _really_ unofficial visit?" Blowhole suddenly realized. "As in, unofficial, even from Penguin?" As Kowalski moved towards the door of the cell, Blowhole took a step backwards.

"Rockgut never exactly said I couldn't break you out, specifically." Kowalski replied, "And don't worry, you're going right back here when you're done. Come on, I've only got a five minute window of error." Blowhole still didn't seem much more inclined to follow.

"When I signed those papers, I had assumed I was going to be able to walk out of here, albeit quietly." He countered. "I'm not exactly popular here, and frankly, your team's record of 53 attempts with only one successful escape doesn't reassure me."

"But we weren't just going up against anyone; we were matching wits with Dr Blowhole." Kowalski barely managed to force himself to reply.

"That's true." Blowhole agreed, taking a tentative half step in Kowalski's direction.

"And also, you knew we were going to try to escape, nobody knows I'm here. In fact, I'd say it's much harder to sneak into prison than out, and nobody was ever able to sneak into your camp." It was then Kowalski realized he'd gone too far on that one.

"Marlene and Hans did." Blowhole countered, taking a step backwards.

"Yeah, well Hans was Hans and Marlene's an exception because you were too busy trying to impress Kitka to notice gravity cease to exist." Taking advantage of Blowhole's brief moment of embarrassment which distracted him from adamantly digging his heels into the ground, Kowalski opened the door and stepped out.

"Where are you going?" Blowhole demanded.

"Lunch." Kowalski replied, and shut the door behind him before anything else could be said. He was back again two minutes later, the key in one hand, a hamburger and hot sauce bottle in the other. He discarded the hamburger, seemingly more interested in the bottle of hot sauce.

"As a concerned party, may I ask when your last psychological examination was…?"

"Let's go." Kowalski ordered, armed with his hot sauce bottle and ready to take on the world.

"Well, naturally I'd like to go with you, I mean, after all, who needs guns when you've got condiments, but…" Once again Kowalski had decided that actions spoke louder than words and continued anyway.

"If someone confronts us before we get out the door, run and don't inhale. I'm not going to carry you out of here." Blowhole once again went to protest, but already they were half way down the hall. Two thirds of the way along Kowalski saw one of the guards look towards them with a quizzical expression. Kowalski doubled his pace as the guard placed a cautious hand on his weapon, his confusion turning to suspicion. Blowhole was getting more and more uneasy. The guard yelled for them to halt, and this was too much for Blowhole. But once again Kowalski turned to his hot sauce bottle. He gave the top a half twist, and then threw it on the floor.

The moment the bottle hit the floor it exploded into a cloud of pink mist that enveloped the room. Kowalski ran for the door, Blowhole in tow. Kowalski sprinted the last third, racing after the mist that had spread through the bars and into the hallway beyond. Both escapees wanted nothing more than to gasp for air, but somehow their lungs made it to a second door which was more than a panel of steel bars on hinges. A few wisps of vapour slipped under the door, but Kowalski was breathing fine.

"Naturally, my formula would be potent enough we would have to worry about that, but I borrowed your counterfeit of the formula, so that's small enough it's diluted before it can cause any harm." Kowalski replied. Blowhole still looked blank, "It's amnesia spray. I was never here, remember? You manufactured your own crude amnesia spray in your cell, knocked out the entire block and ran."

"How'd you smuggle it in, and how'd it end up in the hot sauce?" Blowhole asked as Kowalski once again started moving after consulting his watch.

"Well, it was the only practical container I could think of to smuggle it in." Kowalski replied. He stopped about half way down the hall in front of a bucket and mop that had been left out. He paused there, removing his shoes. Then he kicked over the bucket, water spilling down the hall. "There's my trail gone unsuspiciously cold." Kowalski turned around, starting the other way down the corridor.

"But, even placing the hot sauce bottle in the shipment according to the probability of each bottle being sent to the desired location, you could only get it accurate to three different hot sauce bottles in the crate?"

"So there's three bottles." Kowalski replied. "The probabilities also indicated that should the bottle be discovered somewhere other than the intended target, the results would be similar to the first time Private mistook the amnesia spray for the hot sauce."

Kowalski ducked into another room, a storage closet of which the most striking feature was the foot of a white and gold statue poking out from under a brown tarp. Kowalski removed the tarp, opened the statue, which split in half with hinges like a humanoid closet, swapped shoes with a pair inside before tossing Blowhole an overcoat, hat and a rather ridiculous quick disguise, as Kowalski removed the guard's uniform and prison garb to reveal street clothing. He threw any evidence of their having been there into the statue, closed it, covered it again with the tarp and started pushing it out the door and down the hallway, turning a different way this time.

Abruptly Kowalski stopped in the middle of the hallway and looked at his watch.

"Look distinguished, and when I tap my watch, hit the ground." Kowalski hissed. Blowhole wanted to bolt as the two guards rounded the corner and Kowalski took a step towards them, smiling. "Ah, there you all are." He spoke. Following the guards was a group of civilians, seemingly on an inspection tour. "I'm afraid we were a bit late and got lost trying to catch up." One of the two guards frowned and consulted a clip board.

"Dr Smith…?" He began.

"Yes, this is my assistant, Mr Francis." Kowalski replied, and just then Blowhole Kowalski quietly tapped the face of his watch.

Both scientists hit the ground barely a second before the wall between them and the group exploded in dramatic flames and a deafening boom, vaporizing the statue that had stood almost exactly in the epicentre.

Nobody suffered more than minor cuts and bruises, and Blowhole was about to get up and run out through the hole in the wall out into the yard when Kowalski once again motioned for him to stay put. Just as the first guard was barely stumbling to his feet, through the dust of the explosion, Blowhole saw four figures climb through the hole carrying two stretchers. Blowhole was lifted on to one, Kowalski onto the other. By the time they were stopped by the guards at the perimeter, Blowhole had regained enough of his hearing to make out that they were still Dr Smith and assistant (fabricated identification was shown) and were in grave need of a hospital. They were quickly rushed through by the anxious guards who even assisted in moving them to the waiting ambulance, though Blowhole was quickly pronounced deceased and covered with a sheet before he could be looked at too closely.

The first stop the ambulance made was to drop off Phil and Mason, who'd carried Kowalski's stretcher. Fifteen minutes of driving later, and the ambulance stopped again and Rico, Private and Blowhole got out.

"Where are you going?" Blowhole demanded as Kowalski switched to the driver's seat.

"To complete my alibi."

* * *

Kowalski returned the ambulance, devoid of fingerprints, since Private and Rico had disposed of the truck. Fortunately it was a short walk to the building next door to Rockgut's office. Kowalski retraced his steps, jumping from one rooftop to the next then climbing down the building to the window outside Rockgut's office. He heard a car drive up below and saw Rockgut get out and enter the building. A second later a second car drove up and Kowalski saw a large man in a grey raincoat get out and run in after Rockgut. Kowalski gave them a minute or two, then climbed down onto the window sill and slipped his ankles through the bars. He took a deep breath, then let go.

* * *

Rockgut typed the code into the key pad then inserted the key into the security system's override box. Inside his office he could hear the mechanical whirr of the thick steel doors and bars on the windows retracting.

"You're accusation's crazy." He argued as he did this. The man in the grey raincoat seemed unconvinced, "It's impossible for Kowalski to have been breaking Blowhole out of prison. There's been no way out of this room since that 'so called' genius locked himself in here this morning." Rockgut turned the door knob, "I'll bet he's sitting on the desk right now trying to think of ways to not sound like an idiot when I ask him what the hell he was thinking when he…" Rockgut's voice trailed off as his eyes rested on an empty desk. His search then expanded to an empty room. The man in the grey raincoat had just opened his mouth to speak when a faint cry drew Rockgut's attention to the window.

There were two shoes balanced upside down on the window sill. Rockgut approached, and realized that the shoes were connected to feet and connected to those feet was Kowalski.

"Could you give me a hand up?" Kowalski asked weakly from his awkward position, seemingly suspended half from his left foot's grip on the windowsill and the curtain caught around his right ankle, and half from a bizarre kind of handstand on part of the stonework below.

"I guess you didn't count on falling while you were trying to get through those bars." The man in the grey raincoat commented as Kowalski was hauled back into the room.

"I have no idea what you mean, Burt." Kowalski replied, recognizing the man in the grey raincoat. He looked awkwardly down at his feet, "I guess I was kind of trying to pry the bars open in frustration, then, well, all of a sudden they weren't there." He grimaced.

"Or you were out breaking Dr Blowhole out of jail." Burt countered. Kowalski frowned.

"Dr Blowhole broke out of jail this afternoon?" He asked innocently.

"Yeah, and you did it." Burt replied, "The job's got your team written all over it." Kowalski shook his head.

"But I couldn't have." He countered. He motioned to the safe, "I think Rockgut will tell you that I had to have been touching the safe to activate the security system. So, unless I can run half way across the room faster than the room was locked down, and if I could do that it wouldn't be a state of the art security system, I've been here all afternoon."

* * *

"Why oo we 'ven need 'im?" Rico demanded the moment Kowalski walked into the temporary office, shooting Blowhole an extra glare for good measure. "'ee go' nothin' ta do wi' other 'Walski?"

"Though Kowalski is mostly focused on the first of the two victims, Doris Blowhole, Dr Blowhole Sr. was also killed." Private answered, drawing Rico's attention to the photograph of the crime scene that took centre stage on the crowded bulletin board.

"We don't know why Alius chose now to kill them." Kowalski took over, shutting the door behind him, "My theory is Doris decided to go to the police – she knew enough to get Alius on at least three murders and a bunch of other charges. The father was just an added bonus; from what I'd heard he'd been a real rival a couple of years ago, but now he'd just been reduced to an annoyance."

"an' 'im?" Rico persisted, giving Blowhole another look of extreme dislike before Blowhole could get too comfortable.

"Blowhole Sr. was pretty meticulous with his records, but they're in a code nobody's been able to break so far, so Alius isn't worried about it." Kowalski replied. "However…"

"Ah, so you've brought Blowhole in to crack the code and doubtless find something incriminating on Alius?" Private concluded. Blowhole suddenly looked a lot less confident.

"Well, I guess you might as well turn me in, then." Blowhole spoke after an uncomfortable pause, "I can't decode a word for you." He grimaced, "I was sort of considered the failure in the family. Nobody ever told me anything."

"I knew that." Kowalski replied, and he actually had, "It doesn't matter. Alius thinks you can break the code, that's all I need to force him into a confession."

"Confession?" Blowhole repeated suspiciously.

"Yes, a confession." Kowalski repeated, though Blowhole clearly didn't believe a confession was all Kowalski was going to stop at. Blowhole shrugged.

"He never struck me as the type who would just crack and confess, but I don't care, I'd actually strongly prefer the implied idea." It was a subtle expression, and Private was likely the only one that caught it, but it left him without a doubt that for his attempted nonchalance, Blowhole wasn't taking the news well.

Kowalski appeared to decide that the briefing was over, and the three agents returned to what they'd been doing before Kowalski had entered. And ignoring Blowhole.

"So, do I have to keep the handcuffs on the whole time?" Blowhole asked, interrupting the silence.

"Shut up." Kowalski snapped back at him from across the desk.

"Do I get to see Berlin a little before we fly out…?" Blowhole continued, reaching across the desk for a blank piece of paper and pen.

"Do you want to go back to prison?" Kowalski interrupted, "Because I can just find another relative or dig up an old friend of Doris' – don't think you're irreplaceable." Blowhole held the glare for a moment, but backed down, replacing the pen and paper, though he knew Kowalski was only bluffing. Blowhole was now the last of the family and an old friend of Doris' wouldn't be believable. Shame, he hadn't sketched inventions in weeks since he'd had his pencil confiscated after a failed escape attempt. Bored, he peered across the desk at what Kowalski was working on, but only achieved another warning glare. Kowalski was being uncharacteristically aggressive, even considering Doris, but there was a practiced ease to Kowalski's gruff manor and barked orders too.

"You're a very different Kowalski to the one I used to know." Blowhole commented. "You didn't even want to see what I was about to draw so you could steal the idea." Kowalski's glare returned, tenfold. But analysing and by extension aggravating Kowalski kept his mind off the topic of Doris, "You're reacting like I expected you would. You're behaving more like Skipper on a particularly vengeful day."

"Well I suppose the temperament goes with the job." Private concurred. Rico kicked him under the table, but it was too late.

"Job?" Blowhole repeated, studying Kowalski even more intently. It was then he noticed the conspicuous absence of his least favourite penguin. "Where's Skipper?"

"Rico, keep an eye on Blowhole, I'm going check on Burt's investigation." Kowalski started out the door.

"Looks like I hit a nerve there, most likely the blame/self-pity nerve." Blowhole deduced, "What happened to Skipper? Did he get himself fired or killed or something?" However, Kowalski's silence took the mirth out of Blowhole's joking tone, "Wait, he's actually dead?"

"MIA, 87.43% likely dead." Kowalski replied sharply. He stood up, starting towards the door. Maybe it was the ten cups of coffee over the last twelve hours or the jet lag, but he'd had just about all he could take without Blowhole's smirk or some mocking comment. "Late '49. He went after Hans. Skipper went one way, and his luck went the other." Kowalski slammed the door shut behind him. But if he'd looked back, he'd have noticed Blowhole wasn't smiling.

"I thought you'd been rather happy about that." Private commented quietly, interrupting Blowhole's oddly thoughtful moment of staring at the door Kowalski had vanished through.

"Hans even had to deprive me of finishing off my arch enemy." Blowhole replied, fiddling with the handcuff that held him to the chair, not once meeting Private's eyes, "Shame." He added, when it seemed Private didn't believe him.


	3. How, Exactly, Did It Happen?

"Are you entirely certain this is a good idea?" Blowhole asked, looking warily around the foyer, the heavy art deco décor seeming to bear down on him disapprovingly in the course of its narrative of denouncing crime. "I mean, walking into police headquarters… what if I'm arrested?"

"You already are." Kowalski replied shortly. "I arrested you, remember? Effectively, before you left Berlin, technically, if it needs be, two minutes ago."

"Ah yes, people will definitely believe the story that, after running across the Atlantic Ocean, I had the brilliant idea of going to stand outside of police headquarters."

"I'll make them believe it." Kowalski snapped back. He shrugged irritably, "I don't know, you were trying to hide in plain sight or something. But I'd rather not officially arrest you now, because the moment the extradition process starts, I'll be on the clock. The guy we're going to see will want to keep it unofficial, too, if I know him." Blowhole rolled his eyes.

"Of course, the new commissioner of police, the one who's sworn that the law applies to all and that everything will be above board and transparent. And anyway, he's Private's cousin, he can't tell a lie."

"He wa' Alius' Pri'ate, s' yeah 'ee can." Rico countered. Blowhole shook his head disbelievingly. However, his mind turned to more serious topics all too painfully quickly.

"How'd it happen?" Blowhole asked as the elevator seemed to stop at every floor on the way up. "Specifically." Kowalski grimaced.

"I'm still sketchy on some of the details, and not many people are giving my questions decent answers, but about two weeks ago I picked up a call on a 'supposedly' private frequency about the shooting. I slipped in through a back entrance and got a good look at the scene as they were cleaning up: the two bodies on one side of the room, between them an unfired weapon with the safety still on – probably fell out of a pocket – and down one of the hallways was Alius' gun, recently fired." The doors opened, "Draw your own conclusions from that."

"Never gave either of them a chance." Blowhole muttered. Kowalski glanced at his watch.

"Should be out by lunch time, he shouldn't take too long." Kowalski commented to himself. Blowhole did the mental math. Wait, they were only speaking to the commissioner?

"I thought you said we were sending a message to the enemy?" Kowalski nodded, which didn't help, "Not to tell you how to do your job, but, traditionally, when you want to send a message to the enemy, you don't give it to your allies."

"He is the enemy. Jones is in Alius' pocket – hell, Alius gave him the job."

"Wait, but he's the…"

"Yeah, he's got'em that high up." Kowalski interrupted, "Don't be fooled." Private looked uncomfortable at the harsh tone, "He may look innocent and all, and maybe he was when he was first recruited to spite my Skipper, but if my theory's correct he's got part of his own Skipper's blood on his hands, and he's been sabotaging police operations for Alius for years." Blowhole nodded grimly, "He also coordinated the cover up for Doris' murder." Any doubt or sympathy in Blowhole's expression immediately disappeared.

They continued in silence and with practiced familiarity Kowalski led the way to the former Private's office, where they were told by the secretary to wait as the newly appointed commissioner had been called away on urgent business. He'd be back in a few minutes, and he'd asked that his apologies for his lateness be extended in advance. The secretary returned to what she'd been doing before they entered with a kind of cold aloofness to the group, and they sat down in a row of chairs near the door.

"How exactly did it happen?" Blowhole asked quietly, then almost seemed to regret if afterwards, but Kowalski had heard him so he had to continue.

"You just asked that."

"No, I mean… All you told me was that Skipper went after Hans and didn't come back." Kowalski grimaced ever so slightly, and he immediately glanced anxiously at the busy secretary (who was completely ignoring them), hoping that his brief lapse of emotional control was interpreted as concern for eavesdroppers. He paused, regaining his ever present standard look of cynicism, studying Blowhole for a moment, then, against his better judgement, answered.

"In late '49 Hans was still trying to get out of Europe, thanks to us hounding him – but we always seemed to be just a half step behind him. We kept turning up to areas littered with bodies which were as much Hans' calling card as if he'd written 'Hans was here' on the wall. It was getting to all of us, especially Skipper. No one even remotely related to us was safe. In '46 alone Hans nearly killed Marlene twice.

"Skipper had gotten intel that Hans was headed to a costal airfield near Calais and had started out ahead of us. We were about ten minutes away when he radioed us again, telling us that Hans wasn't there and that he'd gone instead to the village – which was about a mile away – and we'd rendezvous with him there. At least, that's what he told us.

"We arrived at the ruins of a town to find it devoid of both Skipper and Hans. In fact, the rubble was so untouched that it didn't look like anyone had been back there since the war. I wasn't entirely sure why at the time, maybe Hans had caught Skipper off guard and forced him to radio us to the wrong location, or, what actually happened, Skipper had purposely misdirected us; at least, I was starting to think along those lines as we neared the airfield.

"We finally came into view of the airstrip. It was then I realized that our map had been altered that I began to wonder if Skipper had known from the start that Hans was never anywhere near the village. The first things we heard were gunshots. At this point we abandoned the jeep and walked the rest of the way, but when we arrived at the first buildings, there wasn't a living soul to stand in our way, just more of Hans' typical carnage. We were running past the silent mess towards the runway when the shooting stopped and I could hear the sound of an aircraft engine. We ducked around one of the outbuildings and suddenly got a good look at the runway, though we were still a good distance away.

"A hurricane, which, the background noise indicated had been ticking over on the tarmac during the gunfire soared off into the sky as Skipper, on the far side of the landing strip glared at it with the contempt and fury that could only mean Hans was flying it. Realizing Hans was escaping again, we took our cue from Skipper who was firing at the escaping aircraft. For the next minute nothing mattered more in the world to any of us than to shoot down that aircraft; we barely noticed to dive for cover when it shot back at us. A trail of smoke from one of the engines was promising, though it was faster and faster becoming a speck in the distance. Suddenly, when I looked down to reload, I noticed Skipper was no longer standing there. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Skipper ducking into one of the hangars, abandoning the hurricane completely. Thinking at the time that Skipper had thought of taking out one of the other fighters to intercept Hans, I ran after him and the team followed my example.

_Kowalski was half way to the hanger when he heard a voice he recognized as Hans' shout something to someone else who replied in German, but they were too far away and the roar of a second engine was too loud for Kowalski to make it out. He was almost at the open doors of the hangar when he had to throw himself on the tarmac to avoid the propeller of a Wellington bomber taxiing recklessly out of the hanger, though it was already gaining dangerous speed. For a split second Kowalski saw a glimpse through the window of the cockpit of Hans primarily at the controls and Skipper fighting to get him away from them._

_The aircraft turned onto the runway and suddenly it was taking off into the air. The plane flew steadily, gaining height, then pitched drunkenly before righting itself and heading back towards the airstrip. Then again the plane seemed to lose control, dipping down towards the ground. Kowalski cringed, waiting for the crash when it zoomed back up into the sky, heading out to sea. Quickly it turned again, only barely in control as it pulled a kind of half loop, like some kind of deranged aerobatics show, wobbled, and went into a screaming dive again. Again it righted itself just before it could brush the tree tops._

_At this point several airmen appeared from somewhere Kowalski wasn't sure of, running towards one of the anti-aircraft guns. All they had seen was someone who'd shot a bunch of their brothers in arms steal one of their planes, and had no idea Skipper was on board too. Kowalski was yelling for them to stop firing, but the roar of the gun was too loud. When the plane was under the control of either pilot, the single gun was dodged with practiced ease, but the moment the plane seemed to lose control, the clouds of shrapnel got dangerously close. On top of this, the plane seemed to get impossibly closer and closer to the ground every time it went into a dive. The gun fired again and a cloud of smoke exploded near the left wing. At first the plane appeared unharmed, then the engine sputtered, and Kowalski saw the yellow orange flash of fire. The aircraft pitched again, going into a screaming dive and disappeared over the other side of the hill. The plane did not reappear again over the sea beyond._

_Kowalski commandeered the nearest vehicle he could get his hands on after a painfully long argument on top of the aeon it had taken him to find it. The loud bang of an explosion had thrown Kowalski into a panic and he'd practically thrown the confused lieutenant out of the machine. He raced out towards the site of the likely crash. The grass behind the hill was unmarred unlike so much of what he'd seen that day and he continued up to the edge of the cliff that lay just beyond. He looked down at the surf that crashed viciously over rocks that dotted the sea just past the rugged sandy beach at the bottom of the cliff. Bits of mangled metal lay about the beach and were smashed by the sea amongst the rocks, though Kowalski hoped they were some previous battle. Equally he tried to tell himself that he hadn't seen that wing further out to sea before it had sunk beneath the waves. The next day, however, a diving team returned with a scrap of fuselage on which part of the bomber's name and tally of kills could be made out, blackened by an explosion. They'd also returned with a tattered and burned bomber jacket they'd found pinned under the cockpit. It was undoubtedly Skipper's. _

"You alright, K'walski?" Private asked. Kowalski's eyes fixed on the boy and he nodded, quickly losing that far away expression.

"Yeah." He replied, "We never found a body, either Skipper's or Hans'." Kowalski continued. He neglected to add that that fact had made him always entertain the hope that Skipper had somehow escaped, but then why wouldn't he have contacted them? "Regardless, everything indicates that the plane crashed in the sea after the engine exploded just above the water or over the beach – there were some very intense burn marks on the sand. Much of the wreckage had been carried out to sea, and likely the remains were too…"

The door on their left opened and the target of their visit entered. He acknowledged the team and Blowhole with a glance and a polite but curt greeting, took some messages from his secretary and continued into his office.

"Do come in." He called from inside. The team stood up. Kowalski scowled.

"Sure, maybe he was brought into this while he was just a kid and didn't know better, but he knows right from wrong." He muttered as they went to enter the office, "He was the only person who stood a chance of eliminating Alius before it was too late." Kowalski's glare increased tenfold, "And he flinched."


	4. The First Sign of the Enemy

"Well, Special Agent Kowalski," the former private greeted, sitting down behind the ancient wooden desk that seemed too big for his slight form, making him look deceptively weak and pale. "May I ask to what I owe this visit?" Then noticed Private, "Hallo Percy, how've you been doing?"

"Fine, thanks. You?" Private replied.

"Oh, you know how things always are here." The commissioner replied with a flicker of a weary smile. He looked back at Kowalski, his gaze asking for an answer to his earlier question.

"I'm working the Blowhole case." Kowalski replied. The commissioner frowned, attempting to look tastefully confused, but with more than a hint of disapproval and a flicker of fear.

"As you suggested last time, I called your superiors for confirmation. I believe the case was assigned to Agent Van Dorn. Is there any reason why he's not capable of conducting the investigation?"

"Yeah, plenty, but your powerful friends would try to sue me for slander again if I said any of them out loud."

"If I had any of these 'powerful friends'," the former private replied coolly, "I'd say that would be enough."

"Is that a threat?"

"You know it wasn't." Rico suppressed an angry growl. That was practically code for 'you know it was'. "So, may I respectfully ask if you are done wasting my time? And this one is a threat, Kowalski: if you and your team use any of your legally dubious methods, I'm done picking up your collateral damage. Do one thing by the book, and I'll see you're put behind bars where you've always belonged."

"Exactly, commissioner." Kowalski replied with a smile and his opponent suddenly looked a lot more uneasy. "I said _case_ not _homicide_. After all, the murders," the commissioner frowned, "are not my case. I'm responsible for rounding up all of Blowhole Sr. criminal activities. Now, I've found someone who can decode those papers, which – though they're really more relevant to my investigation – I've let you keep in your evidence locker." He placed an official looking document on the table, "I'd like those records back now, and that's the official order. See, everything's all by the book. Consider yourself outsmarted, not that it was ever in any doubt." He added smugly. The ex-private pursed his lips and read the document through carefully. He placed the paper in the out tray behind him, and nodded slowly.

"I suppose I shall have to turn those files over to you." He admitted reluctantly. "Well, is next Thursday convenient for me to have them sent over to you?"

"Have you conveniently forgotten the part of that order that reads 'urgent'?"

"Well, I believe your colleague, Van Dorn, hasn't quite finished with them…"

"They've been sitting in the evidence locker for over a week." Kowalski snapped in reply, "Have your secretary send them up; I'll take them back with me." He motioned to the team, "That's why I brought the extra pairs of hands." Jones nodded.

"Very well, then." The commissioner pressed the intercom, "Shauna, darling, have evidence send up the Blowhole files. Thanks." He turned back to Kowalski, but paused, taking a reluctant breath, "I've said this before, and I'm not sure you appreciated it, nor, quite possibly, will you now, but there are things you don't understand…"

"And I'm going to say the same thing as last time: 'like what?'"

"For your own sake I'd say you're better off not knowing. But I'll give you my word as a Penguin, an officer of the law and a gentleman that they'd change the way you think about this."

"Threats don't work on me, I've already said that too."

"I'm not… Dammit, if you could step out of your own ego for five seconds…!"

"Oh, you mean if I could bend to threats and my sense of personal greed?" Kowalski cut him off. His opponent fumed in response, but opted to stay quiet before taking a pause to regain his composure. "And I know what your excuse is, the 'things I _supposedly _don't quite understand', I am a genius, remember, so I'm smart enough to see through it."

"You've been completely obsessed with Doris ever since she didn't pick you." Jones snapped, "It practically drove your Skipper crazy and nearly got you suspended twice."

"And maybe if I'd been a little more insistent she'd still be alive today!" Kowalski snapped.

"It wasn't your fault she died," the commissioner spoke quietly, "but whatever you do because of her death will be." He held Kowalski's glare unflinchingly, "You can collect the files from Shauna outside. A pleasure as always to speak with you, Agent Kowalski."

"Oh, no, the pleasure was all mine." Kowalski replied sarcastically, moving towards the door, the others following. Private's naiveté sometimes annoyed him, but the fake version outright infuriated him. That kid knew nothing about loss, or at least not nearly enough to lecture him.

The others had nearly all left, Private at the back of the group, when his cousin quietly called him back.

"You don't mind if I catch up with my cousin, do you?" Jones asked accusingly when Kowalski looked at him warily, "With his current job I don't get the chance to have a friendly chat with him too often."

"Go ahead." Kowalski replied and shut the door behind him, leaving the two privates alone.

"I'm sorry we have to be on opposite sides of this." Private apologised quietly. "Goodness, what would Uncle Nigel say?"

"Well I can tell you he's not too happy about any of this, last I spoke to him." Jones replied grimly. He sat down on the corner of the desk and waved the other private to take a chair, not that he expected him to sit, but it was polite. He sighed wearily, "He's been in so much pain since the Skipper's Skipper died – Agent Kowalski, I mean. I lost my Skipper too, but since we weren't exactly on speaking terms anymore… I can't imagine what it was like for him." He grimaced, "Then Doris. Still," He shook his head with exasperation, "he's taking it out on the wrong people, and I wish I could make him understand that before he drags himself down even further."

"I hate to disagree with you, but I have to say, there is a strong case that A-your Kowalski, K'walski uses that name so much I forget he doesn't like it – that he killed his wife." Private argued uncomfortably, "And that a lot of evidence disappeared after it went through your office."

"Well, weather I'm believe or not, one of my main efforts is to clear out the corruption that runs rampant here." He replied, "But I'd almost say, and in this case only, that perhaps it's better this way."

"Better for a killer and a criminal to walk free?"

"Certainly, K'walski's guilty of quite a lot of things I wish I could pin on him, but not this." Jones replied, "I'll admit, the gun my agent found on the scene did belong to K'walski, and that the bullet the medical examiner, conveniently, if not unsurprisingly, 'lost' would match the gun, and that K'walski fired it, but he had no more intention to kill her than… I don't know, your Kowalski!" Private still looked politely confused, "I wasn't there myself, so this is all hearsay, so I'll never be able to tell it in court, but one of my best operatives was on the scene about thirty seconds after it happened, and I'm quite certain I was the first person K'walski talked to afterwards, so I can safely say it was an accident. Near as I can figure, Blowhole Sr. pulled a gun, K'walski fired and Doris threw herself in between – who knows why…"

"However, if that's what your K'walski told you, and I hate to point fingers, but he is known as a master manipulator."

"Not this time." The ex-private shook his head. "I found him with one foot over the side of the Manhattan Bridge. I barely talked him down. He even practically asked me to arrest him for murder, but, well, I couldn't because it wasn't. It was both an accident and self-defence and even temporary insanity too, in Blowhole's case, since he'd just made him kill the only woman he'd really ever loved. And if you want to get technical, there was evidence at the scene of the crime that someone with K'walski's fingerprints had tried to keep her alive.

"I suppose your Kowalski will argue that even if it was an accident he should be put away to prevent him from committing any more crimes or for the ones he already has – he is a killer and a gangster. I'd say the only reason I'm still alive is because I got on the team by saving his life, so I suppose he's got a sentimental spot for me, but who knows how long that will last. Regardless, it's wrong to frame him for the one crime he didn't commit. The thought of what he did is likely already worse than any sentence a court could impose."

Private nodded quietly.

"But I suppose, at least I keep telling myself this, that, well, all that's in the past now, I can't bring Doris back as much as I'd like to." The commissioner stood up, "But, what worries me is the future… well, let's just say I knew another 'Dr Special Agent' Kowalski who was just as in love with Doris Blowhole and as driven by hate and revenge… Your K'walski's been getting worse and worse since '49, not as bad as mine, mind you, but up until now it's just been him on a collision course. Now, with what happened to Doris, well, I'm just worried he's going to get a bunch of people of various scales of innocence caught in the crossfire." He grimaced again, "Confidentially, I can tell you 'Alius' hasn't exactly been stable since it happened. I have no idea what he's capable of if he's attacked. Anyhow," the ex-private started towards the door, "Nigel told me to send his best regards if I was to bump into you," he opened the door, "It was nice to see you again, Percy."

"I do wish it was under more pleasant circumstances, perhaps in future we won't be at odds." Private replied and the door shut behind him.

"'Perhaps in future we won't be at odds'?" Kowalski repeated sceptically. Private flinched slightly, muttering a 'sorry, K'walski'. "Well, what was the story this time?"

"Says it was an accident and Alius is beating himself up over it." Private replied as Kowalski handed him two large file boxes that the youngest member of the group nearly dropped, they were so heavy.

"That one again." Kowalski scoffed, "He's gotta think of a more believable story; it's so unbelievable even you didn't fall for it."

"Right." Private replied, lacking Kowalski's gusto, though Kowalski didn't seem to notice. He glanced back at the office, and for a moment he wondered if his cousin's pained expression could possibly have been faked. Or that he'd so coolly betray his word as an officer and a gentleman.

"Come on, Private, these boxes aren't decreeing in energy required to overcome the gravitational force between them and the earth." Private still remained staring at the closed office. "Hurry up, kid!"

"Yes, Ski-K'walski!"

* * *

They'd gotten about half way down the hall when their path was blocked.

"I wanna talk to you." Joey stated simply. The former boxer hadn't been much of a conversationalist in the days when he and the team had shared a barracks either.

"Y'oo, do ya?" Rico growled.

"Yeah." Joey replied, returning the hostility. The team moved to one side to let a typist pass by.

"You're meddlin' in the wrong case." The Australian stated simply. "Alius' innocent this time, and as I've heard it he's gone through enough without you gettin' on his case again."

"So you want us to back off too?" Kowalski replied.

"I'd say it's the healthier option, considerin' what happened last time." Joey answered aggressively.

"'Eah, we', we ain' never really, thou' much 'bout our 'ealth." Rico snarled back. The two glared at each other like wild animals.

"I'd thought I was doing you lot a favour givin' you this message, especially considerin' that we served together." Joey snapped, the reply aimed mostly at Rico. "There's gonna be people who mean business comin' after you, and we ain't gonna be able to protect you all the time."

"Thanks, but we can take care of ourselves just fine." Kowalski replied. "And I'm gonna close this case. Y'wanna let us pass now?" Kowalski took a step forward, but Joey blocked the hall.

"Now listen to me: we've heard about your little revenge quest. You wanna play by whatever means necessary? We'll do whatever it takes to prevent you from tampering with this investigation. Y'understand?"

"Perfectly." Kowalski replied, "You've wasted five minutes of all our lives." Joey glared at them but stepped aside walking past them and ducking into one of the offices. The team continued down the hall in silence. Despite their show of bravery, they'd just met one of the desperate people they'd be up against, in the flesh, and announcing a warning of what was likely to come.

"'Ell, ah guess th' fir' 'ttempt'll 'appen any ti' soon." Rico commented casually. Kowalski nodded distractedly, and the comment didn't get much more reaction than 'nice weather we're having' except for from Blowhole, who stopped dead in his tracks.

"Wait a minute, what do you mean by 'first attempt'?" Blowhole demanded, and Kowalski paused.

"The first attempt." The scientist repeated.

"To do what?" Blowhole demanded, though he had an uncomfortable feeling he already knew.

"To, y'know, take you out of the equation." Kowalski replied quietly as the elevator doors opened onto the lobby. Blowhole stared at him in betrayed surprise, "It was always a possibility, I'd assumed you'd thought of it, and now it seems even more probable. In an ideal world, Alius would hear that you were going to translate the records, and either confess or go for a plea bargain. On the other hand, he might fight back. In that case, if he tries to tamper with you, we'll trace the attempt back to him and get him on attempted murder."

"Unless you get him on murder!"

"I wouldn't deliberately send you to your death, but I never made it a secret that this was going to be a dangerous job!" Kowalski snapped back, "And anyway, what wouldn't you give to see Doris get justice?" Blowhole paused thoughtfully, and the fight seemed to die before Rico could handcuff him.

"I suppose you're right." Blowhole replied quietly. The team stepped out of the lobby into bright sunlight, merging with the current of the crowded street. "I suppose so." He repeated quietly.

Suddenly Blowhole was gone: all that was left behind was a fleeting memory of his having darted into the dense crowd on the left. Rico raced after him, but a train of school children blocked his path. He ducked around them, cursing, much to the teacher's chagrin, at the delay and fighting his way through the crowd in the direction he'd last seen Blowhole. He just caught sight of his prisoner slightly ahead of him and raced after the running figure. Then Rico stopped, staring at the busy cross street, at all three possible directions Blowhole could have gone. When they finally agreed on them, each member of the team took a direction: Kowalski turned left to go down the avenue, Rico went right heading up and Private went straight ahead down the street. They all returned empty handed. Blowhole had disappeared without a trace.

Blowhole hadn't gotten far beyond the point where Rico had lost sight of him. He'd turned left, then left again onto a quieter street where he'd paused briefly to catch his breath and get his bearings before continuing. He'd barely gone five steps, however, when he was grabbed from behind and dragged into a waiting car that speedily drove off.


	5. On the Off Chance

**Just to clarify, this is related to Do You Really Want to Know. The second team in Escape Attempt 54 is an early version of the team in DYRWTK (it just kind of turned out that way), so By Any Means Necessary is a kind of opposite interpretation of One Last Dance. **

"Entropy of the universe!" Kowalski exclaimed, slamming the inch thick pile of papers down on the desk. The scientist stood up, marching over to the board on which the evidence that made up the case so far was pinned up linked with little pieces of string of various colours, "Why do the best made plans always have to descend into disorder at the most vital points?"

"Well, what was it Skippah used to say about plans and chaos?" Private attempted to comfort, "It was something about nothing ever going to plan and so it's useless to pretend anything ever will…"

"Tha' wa' what th' o'er 'Walski said." Rico corrected darkly. Private immediately seemed to shrink two inches shorter.

"Really, Private?" Kowalski snapped at him, "You two completely and utterly fail possibly the single most important operation in our careers, and you mock me with the words of the enemy."

"'m sorry, K'walski, I didn't…" Kowalski was about to snap something else at him when Rico cut in.

"'ey, don' blame th' 'id." He growled. Kowalski glared at him, then as suddenly as Blowhole had taken off into the crowd, his expression changed.

"You're right." He muttered quietly.

"It's alright, K'walski, sometimes…"

"No, it was my fault." Kowalski cut him off. Kowalski barely admitted the reasoning to his own thoughts, only the overwhelming feelings of guilt and self-loathing that hit him, but it was nobody's fault but his own because he'd trusted Blowhole. It sounded strange, but he'd found it strangely difficult to reconcile the Blowhole with whom he'd snuck into enemy territory on a unauthorized mission, who'd saved his and Doris' lives at least once, and, since other intellects of his level didn't exactly grow on trees, one of the first people he could really have a conversation with. But then that was just what Blowhole had wanted, and he'd known that all along – he'd done terrible things, for which he apparently felt no remorse, and he'd exploit any opportunity he could get. Like Hans, the first impression was appealing, but the reality was horrifyingly different. Later he'd admit to himself that maybe the comparison to Hans was a little harsh, "Maybe Doris was right picking Alius. I was humiliatingly too late to save her… I couldn't even give her justice."

"No." Rico stated shortly, being one who despised self-pity and much preferred misdirected and uncontrolled fury, "Pickin' Alius wa' jus' 'ike when she 'oose Hans. 'ee wa' naïve, 'an o' 'Walski manipulate' 'er."

"Then I should have stopped her." Kowalski countered, "I mean, I was even experimenting with the love-u-lazer at the time…"

"Ca' 'oo even 'ear y'self?!" Rico snapped, "Y'know, wha' don' 'oo go blame y'self, 'ause…"

"Hey, 'Walski, your team's got another case!" Fred interrupted, poking his head into the office, oblivious to the fact that maybe it was a bad time. Rico snapped something back that would have resulted on a hasty dive to cover Private's ears, had Kowalski not been so depressed, so to only reaction was a shocked gasp from the youngest member of the group. "'S a kidnapping," he continued tossing the file on the desk, "you were specially requested – the victim said something like you said if he ever needed anything to go to you, and that you owed him one…"

"Give it to someone else, Fred, I'm not taking any cases." Kowalski growled back.

"…Anyhow, the short version is, the guy who got sent the ransom note, they call him 'The Snakehead' – "A real monster. He devours everything in his path with his horrible, hideous jaws of blackmail" he was described as, but no one's ever been able to catch him – though Kowalski's gotten the closest."

"Seriously, you're trying flattery?"

"…Anyhow, he's gotten the demands and he'll only speak to one of your team since he says they'll kill the kid if there's so much as a hint of police or Penguin…"

"I'm not taking any cases. Give it to someone else."

"Like who?"

"I don't know!" Kowalski snapped, throwing his hands in the air dramatically, "Give it to Van Dorn! It'll give him something to do other than run errands for Alius, calling himself a 'Skipper'."

Private had strolled restlessly around the office again while the others argued before settling back down in the chair he'd originally left to share his sudden epiphany.

"I'll grant you that perhaps it isn't likely someone kidnapped Blowhole for friendly reasons," He argued, his brow scrunched in a manner which at any other time Rico would have found amusing. "However, there is a chance he's still alive…"

"Yeah, a 0.0000012% chance was my calculation with the most recent data." Kowalski cut him off.

"Still, I mean, logic really isn't my thing, but I'm going to give it a shot." Private frowned again in comically serious thought. "Well, should you descend into a dark self-built prison of self-loathing punctuated by explosions of irrational and indiscriminate anger, which is what I think your current intention is, you'll be quite ineffective at handling any case. You'll also probably return to testing unstable new inventions on yourself, recklessly endangering others when you do go out on an operation, or losing your sense of principles, and Rockgut will have no choice but to fire you, at which point you will likely descend even further. In other words, you'll be of no use to anyone, not even yourself, and since you won't even look, you reduce the chance of finding Blowhole to precisely 0%. Now, even though the odds of finding Blowhole are pretty close to nothing, they are still slightly better than nothing, so you might as well use up the time and resources you'd otherwise spend on your first wave of self-destruction on at least attempting to find him."

"That doesn't really add up, but nice try kid." Fred replied as he picked up the unwanted case file from the desk and left. However, Kowalski took a moment to think on it.

"It defies all probability, but you're actually right." Kowalski finally replied. "If I go down, I might as well take Alius with me."

"Well that's not exactly what I meant…" Kowalski had stopped listening.

* * *

"… Uh huh… Oh, I can't, can I?" Kowalski smirked. Private could tell, even though he wasn't certain of who exactly was on the other end of the phone, that Kowalski had been waiting for that moment. "Not in my jurisdiction? I'm unnecessarily interfering with an open investigation? Well, I'm so sorry if I'm interfering with your case, but it's very relevant to my case. You see, since my expert witness was kidnapped… Oh, yes, I'm sorry, disappeared under mysterious circumstances… I've got to investigate the files myself. Well, I think I've cracked part of the code, however, I have to double check the events connected with them to make sure I haven't decoded it wrong and it coincidentally came out as complete coherent sentences… Yes, I'll get the point: now, in the records, Blowhole Sr. claims that he was behind the late Captain Blake 'Skipper/Private – depends when you knew him' Grant's demise…" Kowalski smiled again as the other person seemingly said something very angry in reply, "I didn't decode it? Well, I never said I did, I said I may have. It's just a guess." Kowalski hung up the phone, looking very pleased with himself. "I think the kid's realized by now he can't take the Blowhole case from me. I'm just too smart for him."

"Guess thi' must b' wha' it feel 'ike for Alius ta know 'ee know 'ee guilty, bu' can' 'oove it." Rico remarked. A little quieter he muttered something about Kowalski being back to his usual bragging routine.

"The point is, he can't even prove I lied to him because I didn't." Kowalski held up the two pieces of paper, "I made an attempt at decoding it. It was just based on very wishful thinking." He placed the documents on display on his desk.

"But K'walski," Private asked, "I don't see why you want to open a cold case. Don't you think we ought to let the Captain rest in peace? It was a car accident after all." Private grimaced, "Skippah always did say his reckless driving would be the death of him."

"Oh, it was murder." Kowalski replied nonchalantly, "Common sense-wise it couldn't be anything else. My personal theory is that he was killed and disposed of elsewhere and the body in the car was a look alike, but it doesn't really matter. The point is, whenever that case comes up, Alius gets very, very, and uncharacteristically nervous. He's hiding something, and if I can convince him that Blowhole Sr. left evidence of that, maybe I can get a confession out of him and find out where he's holding our Blowhole."

"Wha' no 'ust leave 'im?" Rico shrugged, "One le' pro'lem fo' 's."

"Blowhole acted in good faith." Kowalski replied, "My principles say I owe it to him." Kowalski snatched his hat out of the air just as it fell from the test tube rack it had been balanced precariously on. He gave the phone a sneer, as if it personified the last caller, "See, he isn't even in town for the investigations, he's gone back to the Chicago office."

* * *

"I didn't order an artificial decorative shrub." Private argued, but the delivery man just shrugged.

"I've got the order here that says you did." He replied, "Look, this is my last delivery of the day. If you don't want it, there's a return address on the box. Take it up with the company." Private unwittingly accepted the delivery, attempting to shove it to the far corner of the office. It was surprisingly heavy and Private in the end gave up. "I suppose this was what that poor fellow at the prison felt." He muttered to himself. And that was when it hit him.

"KOWALSKI!" Private yelled, racing off down the hall. Fortunately, the scientist and weapons expert were just appearing out of the elevator. Private skidded to a stop next to them having run the length of the office in record time.

"What in the cosmic radiation…?" Kowalski began to demand, but Private didn't give him a chance.

"There's a shrub!" He reported breathlessly, "And it's artificial! It was just delivered!"

"Well, it must have been a mistake." Kowalski replied calmly, "And if it doesn't contain the gruesome corpus dilecti or a deadly booby trap, I've been sent worse."

"But what if it's a trap?" Private protested as Kowalski continued towards the office, "Just like the Odysseus statue."

"Private, there's a difference between a plant…"

"A fake plant." Private added seriously.

"… A fake plant and a Trojan horse." He entered the office. In fact, he was about to sit down at his desk and deal with the fake plant later, when the box moved. All three penguins' attentions snapped to it. The box shifted again, then the top quivered slightly and suddenly burst open. A giant green, plastic pompom began to rise from the cardboard box.

"Tha' offic'lly 'econd worst wa' ta trav'l." the shrub grumbled, before the disguise was cast aside.

"Y'made I' outa Chica'o." Rico commented to his replacement. He honestly seemed to be the only member of either group who seemed quite pleased to have a duplicate. He looked at the shrub, "Why?"

"Ma fo'mer boss wan' me dead." Rico replied darkly. "Y' ree'ee don' wanna know wa' it's like 'f 'ee real' hate 'oo."

"I've never quite understood that." Kowalski commented. "I always assumed he'd driven you away to prevent you becoming competition, but then why continue to hunt you after you left New York." The other Rico grimaced.

"I hear' oo reop'ning 'Ippah's case. Tha' why 'ee talk me inta comin' 'ere." He nodded to his counterpart. Kowalski's look asked what he had to do with it, "Te'nically, I kill'd 'im."

"Tony Knight! Exactly! That was the point I'd been missing!" Kowalski exclaimed, before realizing he was being insensitive, "The bartender at the Copacabana, Tony Knight, was killed the same day Grant drove his car off a cliff, and their physical descriptions were pretty close. So you killed Knight to put in Grant's car,thus allowing Alius to kill Grant."

"Nah," and suddenly Rico looked like he was carrying the world on his shoulders, "Tony wa' 'ipper. I jus' didn' know it. 'E tri' ta 'ell me, bu' I didn' listen." Rico paused, "You gon' honour th' deal?"

"Yes." Kowalski replied sincerely. "My principles will hold me to it. Now, why is it 'technically'? Either you shot him or you didn't." Rico flinched.

"'Walski office call' me tha' evenin'. Said there wa' gon' 'ee trouble wi' Tony. 'ell, I used ta p' p'easure b'fore busine', decid' ta say 'ello ta Lola. I wen' a little 'oo far an' Tony star' th' fight. 'ee jus' 'bout had me, then 'is gun jamm'." Rico's expression made it clear he wished it hadn't. "Rest's obviou'."

"So that's what Alius doesn't want anyone to find out." Kowalski smiled, "He killed his Skipper without even having to get his hands dirty." Kowalski paused, then decided he had no further questions. He could deduce the details. "Alright, you can go." Private opened his mouth to protest, but Kowalski's look silenced him.

"Nice ta talk 'oo someone who belive' me." Rico replied quietly. He started towards the door. "Wish ah coul' stay, bu' 's amazing 'ow fast 'Walski ca' track me down 'ere."

"You're just letting him go?" Private demanded.

"That was the deal." Kowalski replied, switching off the tape recorder.

"You actually believed him?" Private replied.

"What reason has he got to lie to me?" Kowalski replied, "Nobody believes he didn't do it anyway, he could at least profit off the reputation of having killed his Skipper. And Alius is more than capable of it. I've known that since I saw that look in his eyes when he tried to kill Barry."

"But Rico's a murderer!" Private protested.

"Frankly, Private, I've spent my career dealing with people like Hans who have killed a lot of people, most of them innocents. In the case we're concerned with, Rico killed a gangster who had it coming to him."

"But he was one of us? He'd just gotten a bit lost…"

"He was the Skipper, Private. Everything his team did was his responsibility, that's the burden of command." Rico nodded in agreement. Private sat down quietly. He wasn't entirely convinced it was right to let someone who'd just confessed to murder to walk free, but he'd picked up on the subtlety of how Kowalski had said 'burden of command'. At the end of the day, he was in command.

"Actually," Kowalski suddenly stood up and started running towards the door, "Somebody him back in here!"


	6. You're Looking in the Wrong Direction

"'ee ha' a deal, 'Walski!" the younger Rico shouted angrily as he was half dragged into the interrogation room. "Wha' y' gonna do? Try 'ee fo' mur'er? Y' ain' gon' 'et a chance ta pu' me 'n a cell!"

"Which is why you're going to talk very quickly." Kowalski replied. He glanced at his watch, "Now, I know one of those cops who brought you in is on Alius' payroll – statistically speaking, at least one of them should be. Now, there's no phones down here, so I figure right now he's headed to one of the upper floors where he can make a quiet phone call. That should take him about three minutes."

'M dea' 'lready." Rico muttered, "'ll never ge' outa th' city."

"Ma'be, bu' I'd say we' y' bes' bet." The team's Rico answered quietly. He hadn't liked the idea of Kowalski breaking the deal, but the damage had been done the moment Kowalski had shouted out Rico's name to the office. "Escapin's sorta a' spec'lty."

"Still, you don't have much time to cooperate. All you have before even we don't have a chance of protecting you is well, now, about one and a half minutes and however much time it's going to take Alius to drive down here." Kowalski added, "So, let's see what you know about a reporter named Pete Peters." Rico nodded as though he vaguely remembered, "Now, describe exactly how and why Alius killed him."

"Bu' 'ee didn'?" Rico countered, looking slightly confused, "Th' rats 'id tha', 'ee turn'd up 'oo late."

"No Alius did, and you saw him."

"I wa' 'n town, 'eah, bu' I only hear' 'bout i' on th' news. 'nyway, i' wa' th' Rats."

"But the Rats never took responsibility for it. Y'know, every second you hold out you decrease your head start on your old boss."

"Why 'ould the'? 'Ee wa' jus' a disgrace' news r'porter?"

"I will personally hand you over to Alius when he arrives…"

"Look, 've a'ready go' a mur'er charge hangin' o'er 'ee. 'f th' Pen'uins ha' 'nything ta do wi' it, I'd ha' told oo a'ready!" He exclaimed desperately. Oddly enough Kowalski didn't seem surprised. And suddenly it dawned on him exactly what Kowalski wanted him to do.

"How did it happen?" Kowalski asked again calmly.

"Y' nee' a re'ent crime 'n 'im, don' ya? Fine." Rico paused to piece together a decent story.

"Private, switch the intercom back on and tell Shauna to start taking notes." Kowalski ordered. "You were saying?"

"'Oo weeks 'go I wa' in N'York 'cause things wa' gettin' kinda diff'cult in Chi'ago. 'd decid' ta stop 'nd talk ta Pete…"

* * *

"Make sure every last exit is covered, and I want that second perimeter three blocks away." Kowalski ordered as he surveyed the towering skyscraper, "I don't want anyone escaping through the tunnels."

"Tunnels?" Private questioned, "What makes you think there's tunnels?"

"That's what I'd do." Kowalski replied, "At times Alius can be so easy to predict, all I have to do is think what I'd do with a few million dollars." Kowalski might have continued to criticize the enemy's intelligence when a car raced around the corner, skidding to a stop next to the police vehicle Kowalski was stood next to. Two men leapt out, the first Private recognized as his cousin and the other in a few seconds he'd presumed to be the young Penguin Agent who currently controlled the Blowhole case.

"You've been taken off the case, Kowalski." Van Dorn spoke. "I just got word from Rockgut. I'd say within the next twenty four hours you'll be turning in your badge and gun." The former private agreed grimly, but Kowalski just smiled, a tad arrogantly, in Private's opinion.

"I don't think so." Kowalski countered, "Since Rockgut's probably going to change his mind when he finds out you've just been arrested. Suppressing evidence, among other charges, in the Peters case? I couldn't believe you were capable of it." He added mockingly. Van Dorn stared at him in utter confusion.

"What are you talking about?" he demanded, but Kowalski had already produced the tape recorder and hit play.

_"… But he'd have needed a man on the inside. That shell casing should have appeared in evidence, and somebody had to have given up the witness's name."_

_"'Course 'ee did. 'S practic'ly go' one a you' agen' on sal'ry."_

_"Who?"_

_"'oo else? Spec'al Agen' Va' Dorn." _

"That's crazy!" The Penguin exclaimed, "I had nothing to do with that case! I don't know how you bribed him or threatened him into saying that, but…"

"I'd really take advantage of your right to remain silent." Kowalski interrupted, "Well, Commissioner, I'd say you'd better arrest him." The former Private glared at Kowalski, but quickly realized he didn't have a choice. He muttered a quiet apology to his framed colleague, and Kowalski's attention returned to the building with the familiar drone of the Miranda Rights being read behind him. There was nowhere else Blowhole could be, if his body hadn't already been disposed of. The moment he'd taken Rico's 'statement', he'd gotten a search warrant and frozen any of Alius' accounts he knew about. He'd immediately ordered a search on every property Blowhole could likely be hidden in, calling in just about every favour he'd ever been owed, but Blowhole wasn't there. There was only one place left to search, and that was Consolidated Amalgamated, the glamorous headquarters of Alius' front company.

"I certainly hope for your sake you know what you're doing, because there's no telling what Alius will do these days." Jones spoke behind him, interrupting his train of thought. "Your guardian angel won't always be there for you." Kowalski scowled. The commissioner was referencing an event in which Kowalski had been captured by a number of Alius' men, had been knocked out, and when he recovered consciousness, had been entirely unharmed, while his captors all represented various states of significantly harmed.

"I'm a genius, of course I know what I'm doing." Kowalski replied, then noticed his handcuffed colleague, "By the way, you might have realized this but, if you were looking for Rico in Chicago, you were looking in the wrong place. I wonder what Alius will think about that kind of incompetence."

The moment the car had driven away, Kowalski started towards the building. He was going to give Alius the chance to give Blowhole up before he levelled the block. The team strolled calmly towards the unsuspecting façade down the eerily empty streets. They were about half way across the road when the doors opened and Barry Malone, one of Alius' lieutenants stepped out, followed by, much to Kowalski's surprise, two military policemen.

"I've got a search warrant for this building." Kowalski spoke, though he was also getting the feeling that Barry seemed just a little bit too happy.

"Good luck." Barry replied smugly. Kowalski took a step forward and so did the MP.

"Sorry, sir, you don't have the security clearance." He stated simply.

"I've got clearance, I'm Penguin." Kowalski countered.

"Oh, I know your clearance." Barry replied. "And you need just one level higher to search this entire building." Kowalski ignored him and spoke directly to the soldier.

"I'm happy to leave the classified labs alone and get someone with a higher clearance to check those for me." Kowalski replied, "I'm part of a murder investigation, and I've also got reason to belive I'm about to prevent another one."

"You have my assurances there is no illegal activity on the premises. But your men need to stand down immediately."

"Sorry, Kowalski," Barry replied, "but you should have anticipated this when the boss bought that aerospace firm. You'll find his assets are unfreezing as fast as you froze them for the same reasons. Can't have vital work disrupted."

"Yeah, well, some things he does like killing defenceless women and hiring Hans' second in command are just too depraved for me to even think of." Kowalski snapped back. He didn't even hang around for Barry to deny that he'd ever heard of Hans. And Kowalski didn't want to make too much of an enemy out of him. After all, the first time he and Alius had met, Alius had nearly killed him, so there was a chance he could be turned. At least, Kowalski told himself that so he wouldn't punch the little man in the face right there.

* * *

"We've only got one option." Kowalski spoke, looking from Private to Rico, daring them to back down, "We've got to break him out again."

"Fro' where?" Rico asked.

"Consolidated Amalgamated." Kowalski replied.

"But he isn't there." Private countered, "We don't know where he is."

"The only place he could be is Consolidated Amalgamated." Kowalski countered, "We've looked everywhere else."

"But Kowalski, they promised that Blowhole wasn't being held on the premises. Perhaps Alius is holding him somewhere you haven't thought of."

"I've thought of all the possible locations." Kowalski replied as if this was an insult to his intelligence. "And I also heard one of them say it would serve Blowhole right to be experimented on by one of his old prisoners, so maybe he's in there and they're turning a blind eye. Right," Kowalski resumed his pacing, "I say we use disguises to get into the building…"

"Thi' a ba' 'dea." Rico interrupted, "We' be messin' 'ith th' wrong 'eople 'oo soon 'oo blatan'ly." Kowalski looked to Private so he could claim two against one, but the boy's uncomfortable expression, he was about to refuse too.

"Really? You back out now?" Kowalski demanded in outrage, mostly because they had a point. If they got arrested, there'd be no one left to avenge Doris. He turned on his heel and stormed towards the lab, "Well, then, I'll find a way a little less 'scary' for you two."

Kowalski had almost slammed the door of the lab behind him when the door to the office opened and Fred poked his head in.

"Hey, Kowalski, I didn't want to interrupt you with something tiny like this, but this cop says he just arrested a guy fittin' your description for Dr Francis Blowhole Jr. for tryin' to buy a newspaper with a subway token, then pulling a gun on the guy when he wouldn't take it. I'll tell him it's a matter for the local police, I'm sorry I interrupted all of you…"

"No!" Private yelled and Fred just about jumped out of his skin, "Oh, sorry. Um, would you please tell the officer to send Blowhole up as quickly as possible? It's most important."

* * *

It had taken him what felt like hours, but he'd finally gotten the blindfold off, thanks to it becoming accidentally hooked on a rusty nail in the wall behind him. Being able to move his head and being able to see again he proudly categorized as a win-win. However, he quickly realized there wasn't all that much to see other than that he was in a non-descript town house - abandoned, judging the state of disrepair – built sometime in the late last century. It was very quiet and the distance he'd been driven made him think he wasn't in Manhattan anymore. The occasional shadow under the half rotted door across the room from him and the muffled voices indicated his captors (so far he'd made out three of them, though the third he hadn't heard for some time) were in the next room

"…Do you think they'll be looking for him…?" Blowhole managed to make out, as he began, having conquered the first challenge, to start on the knots that held his wrists.

"…Nah, for now probably just that Kowalski guy who has the case…" Their conversation drifted again to more mundane topics. One thing that was getting to him was the lack of intelligent conversation. He cursed wood's inability to hold together like metal as the shard of broken wood he'd found and tried to lever the knot apart with slipped and left a porcupine of splinters in his wrist. How had Skipper gotten out of things like this so effortlessly with seemingly nothing? And why hadn't he thought to hide a knife or something up his sleeve like Hans?

"He's been out for a while, maybe we should go check on him…?" That knocked Blowhole out of his relatively leisurely musings. Before they'd given him a drink of rusty tasting water but after he'd taken his second nap he'd started on a list of reasons why he might be more useful to Alius alive than dead, but he couldn't recall them. That was right, because there weren't any. Well, he could promise to falsify evidence or sabotage Kowalski's investigation or something. It was thin, but it was worth a try since he was dead anyway.

"… Do you really think this'll work? I mean, we're ransoming the guy to the police…" Police? Blowhole's heart practically leapt ten feet with joy. All he had to do was sit quietly and he'd be let out. That was actually a better deal than he'd had in prison.

"Relax, he ain't seen our faces…" That put an entirely new spin on both accounts on Blowhole's perceived fortune. He searched desperately for that rusty nail to try to hook the blindfold on it again and pull it back up. Where were the rusty nails when they were needed? He wondered if it was worth shifting to face the wall or the floor and promise not to look. But if he was going to die, he'd do it with more dignity thank a small child reluctantly accepting a time out.

As expected, things went south pretty fast after that.

"But he's seen our faces!" The two men in ratty little grey suits had repeated like two broken records the moment they'd seen Blowhole. Well, after a brief pause where he'd stared at them and they'd stared at him.

"Well, it's not the end of the world," Blowhole had tried to argue, "I mean, if we can all think calmly and logically perhaps we can organize a mutually beneficial solution."

"What's the King going to say when he finds out about this?" The first rat, Blowhole had decided they looked like rats, fretted like Blowhole hadn't even spoken, "I mean, he's seen us…"

"Who's 'the King'?" Blowhole asked.

"Now he knows our boss!" That could have gone better, but a scientific mind like his was endlessly curious.

"The Rat King can't find out about this." The other one spoke. So they actually called themselves 'The Rats'. Kowalski had told him about them briefly, a fairly minor street gang that seemed to be gaining strength. The rat looked at Blowhole, then appeared to have an idea. "I've got an idea."

"Good." Blowhole encouraged. "Let's focus on solutions."

"We can say he tried to escape, we had to shoot him…"

"Wait a minute, let's not be too hasty. Who's this Rat King? I honestly haven't a clue what you're talking about – I'm kind of new here, and honestly, my English isn't what it used to be…"

"He's got a point…" The first began.

"They've got our mug shots, you idiot, Kowalski will identify us!" Blowhole winced. "The faster we get rid of him, the better."

"Can we just discuss this a moment…?" But that point had clearly been left in the dust some time ago.


	7. The Amazing Miss Kitka

The whole scene was suddenly interrupted by three sharp knocks at the door. All three parties went silent, looking at each other questioningly. Blowhole just hoped they wouldn't assume the caller was the police or their boss and shoot him first and check who it was later. Thankfully, for his life, if not his nerves, the pause continued.

"Do you think…?" The second rat started for the first time in the conversation.

"I'll take a look." The other replied nervously, "Put the doc somewhere out of sight." Blowhole was awkwardly shoved into the next room. Blowhole hoped the newcomer was Kowalski and not the Rat King or the missing third rat. But then he doubted it was Kowalski, since surely Kowalski wouldn't do something as crazy as to walk up to the front door and knock. But then crazy was what the pen-gu-ins specialized in.

Through either the paper thin wall or the rotted door left slightly ajar (since that was less suspicious, according to the rats) Blowhole heard the door open. There was a muffled exchange between the first rat and someone else he couldn't quite hear.

"Are you gonna come out here?" the first rat called, but Blowhole detected a note of nervousness that hadn't been there before, "She's got a message from the boss." Captor no. 2 gave Blowhole a last warning look and stepped out of the blue.

Blowhole heard a shout of alarm followed by two gunshots ending with eerie quiet. And the sound of a seagull. Then there was the tap of a woman's heels walking slowly and deliberately. She paused for a moment, and the footsteps started to get closer then stopped again in front of the second rat's body. Blowhole was so close he could hear the fabric of the rat's suit shift as she lifted the body slightly with her toe then released it. His mind drifted back to the sound of Miss Blue's footsteps pacing outside her quarters back at the camp, a particularly chilling memory since he'd realized she'd been pacing as she plotted to frame Doris.

The door opened, and taking a shaky breath Blowhole muttered something to himself about being out of the frying pan and into the fire, keeping his eyes on the ground – he'd learned that lesson.

"What was that?" A woman's voice spoke. Blowhole's eyes shot up from the floor at the sound of the voice he hadn't heard in years, nor ever really expected to hear again.

"Kitka?" He stuttered. His eyes locked onto the woman, perfection personified, just as she'd been the last time he'd seen her in '44. He remembered the exact date, hour and duration of the chance, well, semi-chance, meeting.

"Yes, Dr Blowhole?" She replied professionally. He'd hoped time would make her think more fondly of him, or at least notice he existed. In his case, he hadn't noticed she'd cut the ropes around his ankles till a strand of her red hair had fallen in front of her face and he'd wondered why it had moved.

"Turn around." She ordered. Blowhole did as he was told, still trying to comprehend that a) Kitka was there, and b) he was being rescued. Blowhole felt blood return to his fingers as she freed his wrists. Blowhole shakily managed to stand, leaning heavily against the wall at first.

"How are you feeling?" She asked.

"Just wonderful." He replied dreamily.

"Can you follow my finger with your eyes?" Blowhole preformed the test successfully. Even her manicured index finger was perfect.

"Any broken bones or other injuries? Do you feel any kind of pain?"

"Uh… Um, no. Nothing serious."

"Good." She dropped two identical pieces of metal into his hand. The objects were circular pieces of metal stamped with various words and mysterious designs, like coins, only there was a big 'Y' shaped hole in the middle.

"Is that who you work for?" Blowhole asked, eying the objects with interest.

"No, that's a subway token." She replied, handed him a folded slip of paper, and barely a second later was walking out the door, "You constantly remind everyone of your IQ, you'll work out what you need it for." And then she was gone. For a moment or two Blowhole stared blankly in the direction she'd disappeared in, being in no shape to chase after her. He unfolded the piece of paper, hoping it was instructions for a secret rendezvous, or her phone number. He winced. The heading announced it was directions to the nearest train station and a reminder to go straight back to Kowalski, attracting as little attention to himself as possible.

With a heavy heart he grabbed a gun off the corpse of rat no.1 and started out the door in no hurry. If he knew Kitka, she'd be long gone even if he could instantly teleport to the front door.

* * *

"Well, how was I to know it wasn't legal tender?" Blowhole snapped, practically emanating wounded pride. He tossed the offending subway token on the table. "And I was irritated that my disappearance wasn't even in the paper." He added, as if this justified everything.

"You still don't then pull a gun on them." Private countered.

"The last time I was a free man that was exactly what you did." Blowhole replied, and Private would have said something about that behaviour possibly being connected to the reason he was serving a prison sentence, but Kowalski interrupted.

"Anyway, the point is, you're alive, and unfortunately without evidence that Alius was behind the kidnapping." Kowalski cut in.

"'eah." Rico agreed, "Now, where 'ee up to?"

"Well," Blowhole began, eager to continue with the story of his daring escape, after the short detour to his embarrassing capture, "I'd just been moved to the final location when one of the rats…"

"We can hear the story later." Kowalski interrupted again irritably. He stood up from the desk, as if he intended to continue to wear the carpet down with his pacing, then paused, looking at Blowhole. "How long would you say you've been free?"

"About two hours." He glanced at the cracked face of his watch, "Maybe closer to two and a half or three. The officer who arrested me had a very different interpretation of urgent than I feel you meant to convey, so…"

"You should be dead." Blowhole went silent, staring at the other scientist, "In fact, it defies logic that all of us are alive."

"You surely aren't suggesting Alius would attack us in our own home base?" Private asked. "I mean, don't you think it's a little conspicuous for him to kill a whole room full of law enforcement officers? And anyway, why would he?"

"He didn't have a problem with planning to kill me in cold blood in my own airfield." Kowalski countered. Private didn't counter argue. It took a lot for Kowalski to bring up the 'guardian angel' incident. "And he'd do it to shut us up. Which leaves only one possibility: he's decided to play the off chance –and unfortunately the reality – that we've been bluffing. So we'll have to make the threat a little more tangible."

"'ee can't do tha' shorta forg'ry: they gon' doubl' check ya work." Rico pointed out, though paused as the look on Kowalski's face told him that was exactly what Kowalski was thinking of doing. "Oh co' on! No one gonn' belive us!"

"That's why we'll need an independent party to verify the translated document's authenticity." Kowalski replied, "You're right, no one will take either ours or Blowhole's words for it, but I know a seemingly independent expert or two who will play along, people will belive it." The scientist started towards his lab, "The only question now, is what kind of a code can I create that will look enough like the real thing's to pass…" he smiled whimsically.

A few hours later Kowalski reappeared with his own version of a page from Dr Blowhole Sr.'s papers, all ready to be 'deciphered and translated' by Blowhole. In the following days, with the help of the team, they'd produced enough to present to Rockgut. The outcry was even greater than Kowalski had expected when he leaked some of the pages to the press. Of course, they were just relatively mundane samples. He couldn't 'decipher' anything too directly incriminating since they might not stand up as evidence in an actual trial, but the city was hanging on every word he produced. It was only a matter of time before Alius accepted Kowalski's offer – life imprisonment instead of the chair in exchange for a confession – or did something desperate. And Kowalski was ready for him, this time.

However, as the second week slipped past and Alius had still done nothing, Kowalski started to lose the confidence he'd held at the beginning. Despite the fact newspapermen surrounded Alius every moment of the day he seemed to continue as if nothing were happening. He'd even told one camera crew that he was glad someone had succeeded in deciphering the documents and looked forward to a safer New York brought on by the arrests of the names the evidence would name. The papers had loved that one. Certainly, there had been attempts to steal the documents, but they'd all been sloppy attempts by irrelevant parties.

"It's almost as if he knows they're fakes." Private commented quietly. "Perhaps the plan…"

"Of course he knows, and my plan hasn't failed!" Kowalski snapped. Perhaps afterwards he regretted making Private cringe with the harshness of his tone, but if he did, the rest of the team couldn't tell.

"I'm sure Private wasn't going to accuse your plan of failure. Small pen-gu-in, doesn't matter if our enemy does or doesn't know, it's what he thinks we can prove." Blowhole added more quietly in explanation. Private nodded in thanks. Kowalski glared at them.

"Strange worl' where th' pris'ner gotta d'fend th' Pri'ate." Rico commented. Kowalski turned on him with a look that combined his reactions to Blowhole and Private.

"I'm not cracking up!" Kowalski replied. No one but Rico knew if that was what Rico had been implying, but now it had been mentioned, Private could see blatant similarities between Kowalski's tense form and men he'd known in France to whom the strain of war had become too much.

"No, he's not." Blowhole concurred. Private and Rico would later differ on whether Blowhole had said that to calm Kowalski down or if he actually meant it.

"At worst I expected a fight, maybe some last desperate attack – he's got an arsenal in that lab of his – an attempt to undermine me or frame me..." Kowalski walked towards the modified safe at the far end of the room where he was keeping the forgeries. "I didn't expect him to just sit there and do absolutely nothing." He opened the safe, pulled out an envelope marked 'Plan F' and tossed it to Blowhole.

"You aren't seriously…" Blowhole began, extending the parcel in the hopes that Kowalski would put it back in the safe.

"No, you're right, I can't outright frame him, it would be too risky." Kowalski replied, taking back the package. He tore open the envelope, tossing it in the bin, and handed the exposed documents to Blowhole. "We're just going to get him seriously desperate." Blowhole tried to protest, but Kowalski had already marched through the open door. Before anyone could catch up to him to pull him aside, Kowalski had led them all into Buck Rockgut's office.

"Sir, I want a warrant for Alius' arrest." Kowalski spoke before the door had even shut behind them. Rockgut immediately looked up from his desk, muttered a hurried excuse to the person on the other end of the line and slammed the phone down on the receiver.

"Are you sure you know what you're saying, cupcake?" Rockgut countered. One look told him Kowalski knew exactly what he was asking for, "Do you really think anyone's going to give me one after that search warrant?"

"I've got enough evidence." Kowalski countered, setting the pile of documents on the table.

"Just deciphered these, huh?" Rockgut replied sceptically, like every other time Kowalski had set a new batch of forgeries in front of him. But whatever suspicions he'd had, like the past times, Rockgut kept them to himself.

"Yes, sir." Kowalski replied. "You'll want to read them, of course, but they're enough. Blowhole knew Alius was after him, and might use Doris to draw him out. He also documents previous failed attempts on his life, the perpetrator of which is clearly stated. If this isn't compelling evidence of premeditation – which makes it murder – I don't know what is."

"Well, what are you waiting for?" Rockgut demanded after a moment of silence had elapsed, "I'm not going to start making calls right now, I've gotta strategize on this and see if I can even get you a warrant – and I want to double check every page of this. Meet me tomorrow when we've both got cooler heads and we'll see what we'll do about it."

"I need the warrant in the next few hours!" Kowalski protested. "You know how news travels here, by tomorrow Alius will know all about it and probably try to skip the country."

"I'll meet you in two hours." Rockgut offered, placing the papers in his desk drawer, "Alius will find out a hell of a lot faster if this representative of his legal team comes up here and sees this lying face up on the desk."

"Representative of Alius' legal team?" Kowalski asked. So maybe he was going to try to make a deal.

"Yeah, some dame, practically forced her way in here. Says she' gonna finally outline your doppelganger's position on all this." Interrupting the end of his sentence, Rockgut's secretary was already announcing that Alius' representative had arrived. The door was opening even before the secretary had finished.

"Good afternoon, Director Rockgut," a silken voice known well to all in the room spoke. A slender hand shut the door behind her.

"Pleasure to meet you, Miss…"

"I prefer people to call me Kitka." She interrupted, completely at ease. Blowhole looked like the scientific method had just been outlawed.

"Kitka?" he exclaimed, the failure of his rescue to compute with the new data written all over him. For the first time Kitka acknowledged the others in the room.

"Doctor, Kowalski and associates," She greeted curtly. Private moved to politely excuse himself. "No, I'm glad you're all here, you've saved me the time of sending someone to find you."

"You're working for Alius?" Blowhole demanded in astonishment.

"Yes, I am one of Mr Kowalski's representatives." She replied, and turned back to Buck Rockgut. "Now, we have some things to discuss…"

"Why are you stalling?" Kowalski demanded, and her attention returned to the group. Kitka frowned in mock confusion, "Where's your boss trying to go while you're distracting us here?"

"I'm afraid I don't quite understand your allegation." Kitka replied, though Kowalski knew she knew exactly what he meant. There was only one reason Kowalski could think of why Alius wasn't here in person on a matter as important as this: he was on his way to somewhere without an extradition treaty. "You're wondering why my employer isn't here in person?" _'What do you think?'_ Kowalski's sarcastic expression clearly read. "Agent Kowalski, my employer is a very busy man, and only has time to deal with the most important matters." She returned her attention to Rockgut in a manner which implied 'no further questions'.

"Your boss is actin' pretty arrogantly for a guy who's being investigated on several accounts of racketeering, extortion, arson, armed robbery, armed robbery and kidnapping, to name a few. It's all going to come out when the Blowhole case finally gets to trial."

"The case is closed." Kitka countered simply. Rockgut went to speak, but Kitka interrupted, "It's not a threat, and if my employer did such things, everyone knows _you_ can't be bribed. You simply have no case." Something about her manner told Kowalski there was more behind the statement than a groundless threat.


	8. It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better

**1951**

"I told you I'd never let you out of my sight." Henrietta Blue spoke. She set the gun on the table casually and took another swig from the flask. Hans smiled in return and took the flask from her, though his eyes had watched her every movement.

"I never doubted you would." He replied coolly, and took a nonchalant sip, savouring the experience – it reminded him he was alive. He took another gulp. Blue frowned, and Hans quickly offered it back to her. The frown turned to a smile, an almost overly sweet smile. Hans was glad he was drunk. It was the only way he could keep his nerve seated across the table from dynamite.

"You do love me, don't you, darling?" She asked, aiming an absent minded kick at the corpse of the Penguin agent she'd procured the flask from. Her hand rested on his.

"Naturally." Hans replied, hoping she wasn't reading his pulse.

"And you will take me to South America with you?" Her voice developed a harder edge beneath the syrupy velour. Hans realized her fingernails were digging into his wrist, "You won't abandon me again, will you?"

"I never abandoned you," Hans laughed, but there was a nervous note he'd hoped wouldn't slip out. "I had to draw Skippar away from you; there was no time to ask."

"Of course." She replied softly, and then abruptly her manner changed. Hans froze as he realized she was looking at him with a dangerous mixture of hatred and crazed fear. "You're going to leave me, aren't you? You're going to abandon me at the first opportunity!" The intensity seemed to increase exponentially with every word.

"What are you talking about? Of course not!"

"I can tell you're lying, I can hear it in your voice!"

"No!"

"You've been lying to me just like everybody else!" Hans saw Blue's hand go for the gun.

* * *

"Alright, why don't I have a case, then?" Rockgut asked practically, but Kowalski could see the same doubt that had seized him in Rockgut.

"Because your case is really based on one source – the late Dr Blowhole's files – and those are forgeries." Kitka replied coolly. Then she paused, and Kowalski noticed her eyes quickly, perhaps impulsively, dart to the clock on the wall, though she tried to disguise it. She stood for a moment, as if listening, or pretending to, then opened the door of Rockgut's office. Outside the office was abuzz.

"Thanks for the tip, Kowalski!" Kowalski's least favourite person to hold the title of private called through the open doorway on seeing the scientist. He gave a word of encouragement to the scared little girl holding his hand. The reporters being held back by a line of elevator boys and typists loved it. Joey gave Kowalski a grudging smile.

"Never would have thought to look at the Rats if it wasn't you." Joey spoke, "Mind if we use your office to put the kid in?" Kowalski allowed them to place the girl in his office before starting an argument.

"Who's the kid?" he demanded. "And what do you mean, tip?"

"The Snakehead's girl," Joey replied. The ex-Private was too busy starting his speech to the press. "Did you wipe your own mind again, or does that ego of yours just want to hear me thank you twice? Thanks for the tip you sent us this afternoon, you know, that the rats had the girl and were hiding out in that warehouse in Red Hook?"

"Well, if it's a tip from this afternoon, I didn't send it." Kowalski replied, "And if you want an alibi, you can ask my team."

"Now's not the time to learn modesty, Kowalski." The commissioner laughed. Another one for the papers, clearly. "We had the place covered so fast they couldn't think of a better story than that the girl had just been left there five minutes ago and they'd only brought her in while they worked out what to do with her."

"Then you've got a strange case of someone impersonating a government agent to send the police a tip." Kowalski snapped. He shut the door, glaring at Kitka, who was oddly enough sighing with pity.

"Such a shame." She spoke.

"What, one of your boss' 'evil schemes' gone wrong?" Once again Kowalski got a look of glaringly false ignorance.

"Once again I have no idea what you mean. I was thinking of a kid. Shame she has to come back from that horrible ordeal just in time to watch the Snakehead go back to prison. He confessed to it all last night, you know, forgery, slander, obstruction of justice…" And that was when Kowalski put all the pieces together.

"Alius did it again." Kowalski accused, "He kidnapped the kid to get leverage over Snakehead, and he knew I'd be too obsessed with the current case to put it together." Alius had even gotten an excuse to send his pet policeman to destroy one of his rivals' establishments out of it, "And you sent Blowhole back just to mock me."

"I think you're confused, and bordering on slander," Kitka replied innocently, "The Rats kidnapped both the girl and Dr Blowhole, and well, I just like helping out old friends. So, as I said, you have no case." She glanced at her watch and started towards the door, "Well, like my employer I am also a very busy person." Her hand rested on the doorknob, "Oh, Kowalski, I was told to tell you: my employer has some suggestions on how you might refine your methodology so these sorts of mistaken results don't reoccur." She left.

Kowalski was gripping his clipboard so tightly Private was worried it might crack under the strain.

"He has to drag up an argument from 1943 just so he can have the last word." Kowalski fumed to no one in particular. The rest of the group looked at him in confusion, "The details aren't important, just think of it as his way of saying check mate in his little game."

"Look, Kowalski, I think I'll be able to keep this quiet, Alius doesn't seem like he's going to drag us through the courts," Rockgut started practically, though with a far from promising look of concern, "But maybe for your own good you should pass this case on to someone else." Private pre-emptively winced at the inevitable conflict. Kowalski, for the time being, remained stony, "You've been obsessed with this case for almost ten years, I know how invested you feel, but maybe someone who isn't caught up in their own personal rivalry wouldn't have dived head first into a trap like this." Kowalski looked like he was going to reply to that with something that would get him fired. Then he seemed to restrain himself.

"I don't know what this is to Alius, I think he thinks of it like some kind of game or something," Kowalski replied quietly, using up what was probably the very last of his self-control, "But it's not to me. He's killing people, getting innocent kids like that girl, and to some extent, Private's cousin, caught in the crossfire. He manipulated the most wonderful woman I've ever met into falling for him, and then killed her, so I know this is very real. I know I'm endangering everyone around me by keeping this up, and I want nothing more than to give up, but I can't because of this twisted game. Alius doesn't normally waste time being theatrical or flamboyant, except for with me, and it's those extra little risks he takes to prove he's better than me where he's more likely to make a mistake." Rockgut nodded, "Take me off the case if you want, but understand he's not going to give up till one of us, maybe both of us, is dead. It's just like Skipper and Hans."

"I'll give you one better, then. You can have the Blowhole homicide case."

* * *

"Wanna dance?" Lola was about to give her automatic refusal, but an unmistakably familiar note to the voice held her tongue. Immediately she spun around; the moment she set eyes on her addresser her lips parted in a startled half gasp. "Good evening, Frauliene." Hans smiled, noting the second reaction in barely a second. "You were afraid I was the one they call Skippar, perhaps? I've been told I can do quite a good impression of him." The Copacabana's former main attraction glared at him.

"All it would take is one scream from me and…" She whispered.

"And I'll kill everyone in this room. Or a good majority of them, anyhow." He replied. Lola just nodded. She knew he'd do it. Lola started to lead the way across the club, Hans keeping an inconspicuous distance behind her. A few people spoke to her, but she brushed them off quickly and soon enough had shut the door of her dressing room behind them.

"What do you want?" Lola demanded angrily, "And remember, you're on my home turf now, you've got nothing to threaten me with." She added, hoping she seemed tougher than she felt.

"See, I remember it more as a contractual arrangement." Hans countered. Lola shivered, and by grabbing her wrap from the chair and draping it across her shoulders, tried to put it down to the cold, "You needed a way out of France and I had the means to provide it. Skippar and the commandos he was leading were the price."

_"Remember it how you like."_ She'd wanted to reply indignantly, but it didn't end up happening.

"Hm. You're very different to how I remember you during the war." Hans commented, "You've become much more… timid, I suppose."

"Well, forgive me if I was a little startled." Lola finally got to express indignantly. In the end it just sounded hollow and false, "Last I'd heard of you was that you'd run off with that crazy girlfriend of yours. I figured she'd snap and kill you within a month. It would have saved me a lot of problems." Hans frowned in a kind of reminiscent grimace, and Lola wondered if maybe she'd gone a step too far.

"Well, naturally Henrietta Blue was highly unstable, and indeed, one day she did snap," The grimace turned to a kind of vaguely amused smile. Lola stiffened, "She took too much time leading up to it. I grabbed the gun before she did." He explained nonchalantly. He paused, as if something new had occurred to him, "Y'know, I didn't actually end up using it. She was so irritatingly obsessed with how she looked, I didn't think a gunshot wound would do enough damage."

"Well, I'd love to reminisce about how long it took her to die or whatever you dedicated sociopaths like talking about, but I've got an eleven thirty show. So, what do you want, and why do you think I'm going to do it?"

"Well, you can answer the second one for yourself, I honestly don't care what your motivation is, because you will do it, I'll see to that." Lola failed to suppress another cold shiver, "I've heard a mutual friend of ours is in town, and I think you know who I mean. I want you to find out what you can about why he's here and where he is. He'll probably stop by the Copacabana at some point for old time's sake."

"How do I contact you? I'm guessing you like to keep out of sight."

"You still broadcast occasionally, right?" Lola shrugged, "Well, start showing up for your radio appearances – sober. Stumble on one of the words of one of your old favourites if you have anything interesting." Hans started towards the door. "Oh, by the way, I've been curious about this: did you kill your husband?"

"No." Lola replied, "And that's what I told the papers, too." Hans' eyes examined her expression briefly, then smiled knowingly.

"Just as I thought." He replied vaguely, and opened the door, "I think this really goes without saying, but please don't keep me waiting. For your sake, I wouldn't give me anything I've managed to find out before you tell me." The door shut with a soft click. Lola immediately started towards the telephone.

* * *

"You're conduct was completely unacceptable!" Rockgut exclaimed. Kowalski looked sullenly at the near right corner of his superior's desk, "You can go." He muttered to the two agents that had escorted Kowalski in, "I can't believe I'm reading this – you threatened the suspect with… No wonder Rico objected."

"I wasn't actually going to do it." Kowalski replied quietly, glancing up briefly from the corner of the desk to give Rockgut an irritated look, but the look he received in reply caused him to immediately shift his gaze away.

"Yeah?" Rockgut countered dubiously, "'Cause on paper it looks a lot like you were."

"Well, if it was unrealistic, the enemy wouldn't belive it." The scientist explained unapologetically. Rockgut believed him, right? Kowalski knew – well, hoped – he was just doing this to get his nerve up. Kowalski managed to retain his cool demeanour with the memory that every other time he'd been hauled in front of his boss recently, all it had been was words. Rockgut understood that the methods needed to bring down someone like Alius weren't always entirely legal.

"Anyway, where'd you even get an idea like that from?" Rockgut demanded, dropping the report with disgust, though his eyes lingered on it rather than Kowalski. There was definitely something different this time, Kowalski's gut told him, so naturally he dismissed it. Well, he could dismiss the thought, but not the feeling of foreboding. The scientist adjusted his posture.

"Something that happened to someone I knew during the war, sir."

"Hans? You're taking ideas from Hans?" Rockgut's eyes snapped up from the table, and Kowalski narrowly avoided wincing. There was a distinct horrified incredulity Kowalski had never seen in the jaded former commando before, "I have only ever had to lecture one other person about borrowing contingency plans from him, and…"

"Don't compare me to Alius!" Kowalski cut him off sharply.

"Then stop acting like him!"

"Sometimes you need to adopt some of the enemy's methods." Kowalski answered with disturbing conviction, "You need a thief to catch a thief."

"So you need a killer to catch a killer?" Rockgut countered. Kowalski paused, then went silent, realizing he was probably better off that way, "This is your last chance, Kowalski, and I shouldn't even be giving you this."

"Yes, sir." Kowalski replied, and went to leave.

"No, I don't think you get it!" Rockgut snapped, and Kowalski turned around, "And who the hell told you you could leave, anyhow?"

"Sorry, sir."

"I know exactly what you're thinking, Kowalski, and I'm telling you to stop thinking it if you value where you are. You were one of our best, but ever since Skipper went MIA you started downhill. You complain that Alius' team was put forward for that last infiltration mission, but Nigel didn't have a choice, he knew you wouldn't last a week in deep cover – they cracked and went rogue, sure, but you would have done it a lot faster, belive me." Rockgut paused, returning to the present, "I thought I was doing you a favour by giving you the Blowhole case, but unlike you, I belive in protecting my people. If you've decided to crash and burn, I will put you behind a desk or even in a cell before you end up in a coffin." Rockgut paused as he observed the dramatic effect of his words on the stunned agent, "That's all I have to say, Agent Kowalski. _Now_, you can leave.

Kowalski nodded and left.

* * *

To Kowalski, the Copacabana was a place both of the past, and of the future. It was the only place in the city he'd found that could recapture some of the reckless, time-unconcerned atmosphere that was probably the only thing he missed about Barracks 3. On the other hand, Julian's abnormally short attention span meant that the place was constantly changing and always on the cutting edge of style and class. The Copacabana was the only place Kowalski knew that knew him, and where he could step out of the present.

For that reason, many of Kowalski's former service buddies who'd settled in New York frequented the place, so the odds were always that he could bump into someone he knew to reminisce about old times or discuss what the future would bring. But tonight they knew to leave Kowalski to his thoughts. Even Maurice, the old barracks intelligence officer, allowed Kowalski to restrict his conversation to ordering another drink, looking at his customer pleadingly every time turned over the glass. But Kowalski didn't want to talk. What was the point of talking to Maurice, anyhow, he always already knew the whole story before Kowalski even walked in.

There wasn't much to say, anyhow. He was playing a gamble, and he'd just reached the window where he'd see if it had paid off. The question was whether it would work before he went down in flames.

Lola, up on the stage in all her glory – making another try at it, seemingly – glanced at him warily, a walking reminder of all the treachery that surrounded him. Every time he appeared, he could tell she was wondering if he was going to turn her in. Kowalski had already implied to her once that, frankly, it didn't matter all that much to him. Maybe one day he'd turn her in when he'd run out of bigger fish to fry. Alius would probably kill her eventually, anyhow, knowing Lola's penchant for picking fights with him. How she was still alive was a mystery to Kowalski, though the going theory was that they'd somehow been romantically involved and Alius was still sentimental. Wonderful, he'd cheated on Doris before he'd killed her.

"Buy you a drink, soldier?" The brunette spoke as she slid into the seat next to him with a sultry half smile, "On the other hand, I think I'll take that offer back since you look like you're pretty close to one too many already. You're only half as cute as you normally are when you're drunk. Too much equation muttering."

"Still pretending to flirt with me to see if you can get Skipper to chase me around the building screaming bloody murder again?" Kowalski replied with as close to a smile as he'd gotten in the past 72 hours.

"It was funny enough to be worth a try." Marlene replied.

"Huh. Funny." Kowalski muttered.

"I thought sarcasm was supposed to be the lowest form of wit or something like that."

"No, that's still kinda funny. I just think its odd how we're still joking about that as if Skipper was still alive to care." Kowalski replied. Marlene just nodded with a kind of half shrug. She caught a relived Maurice's attention, actually, he'd been pretending he wasn't watching them since the moment she walked in, and ordered a drink elaborate enough that Maurice would be distracted with making it for a while. "That'll probably be one of the last things I can charge to the expenses." Kowalski commented.

"I'll take two of them, then, Maurice, I've got a friend who'll want one." She added, "Send it to the usual table."

"Will Kowalski be joining you there soon?" Maurice asked.

"Hopefully." Kowalski realized he'd been studying Marlene intently throughout the entire conversation. She hadn't changed much since the last time he'd seen her, which had been '51, no, later than that, ' , she was still good old Marlene with the friendly smile and the twinkle in her eye that fortunately hadn't sunk to the bottom of the Atlantic with Skipper. Of course, she was no longer the young cabaret girl Skipper had run into during the war, nor was she Skipper' equally spirited, though more deeply damaged partner in mayhem. Kowalski hadn't spent nearly enough time with her recently to know who she was now.

"What have you been up to lately?" Kowalski asked.

"Oh, still taking valuable paintings that don't belong to me, the usual." She replied nonchalantly, "That Rembrandt that went missing from the Frick? That was me." She added, then paused with what seemed like somewhat exaggerated moment of realization, "Oh my, I've said too much already. I forgot you're a lawman now." She sighed, almost comically, "You'll have to arrest me now, I guess."

"Marlene, I wouldn't…"

"What if I made you a deal, like a plea bargain or something?" She didn't give him time to answer, though there was a tad more of that twinkle in her eye that indicated she was up to something, "Well, how about this: forget I said that and you can force me to tell you where Skipper is."


	9. Estranged Friends

_September, 1952_

_Kowalski remembered the Zoo II before it had become a shell of its former self. In fact, it was unnervingly eerie to see the former bustling wartime HQ of Penguin silent. He distinctly remembered how uncomfortably it had reminded him of the end of his dearest friend and the finest soldier he'd ever served under. One minute it was another daring battle against Hans, a minute later it had all been over, just wreckage floating on the sea. For a split second a pang of fear, guilt and inadequacy urged him to give up the venture, but he quickly overcame it with an equal measure of ever harder to muster willpower. Nine minutes and thirty two seconds later, ironically, he'd wish he'd acted on that first impulse._

_The time was 0052. The last two minutes of reconnaissance before an operation started, especially a solo operation – he wasn't getting the team involved in his mistake – Kowalski had always found the most unnerving. His equipment was double, quadruple and quintuple checked, and as he'd expected, nothing unexpected had moved on the airfield. Kowalski felt the usual pre-operation doubt rising up inside him, well, usual since his failing had allowed his friend to be spread across the bed of the North Sea, and forced his mind back to the reason why he was there. A smile contorted his taught expression as he considered how ludicrous it was for him to be sneaking into his old office in his old airfield. His and Alius' rivalry certainly was an odd one, like some kind of strange game of chess he wasn't entirely certain he enjoyed playing but wasn't entirely certain he didn't._

_Kowalski hadn't really had a choice in the matter. He'd been certain his office was being searched, and it wasn't just the paranoia that had come with his recent inheritance of Skipper's job. Well, it was really a year since they'd formally stopped calling him 'Lieutenant Kowalski' – which did decrease confusion with Alius, who'd left the service at that rank – but he was still nervous enough that he seemed like he could could have gotten the promotion yesterday. He'd carefully arranged his files, making sure he was the last one to leave, and on a number of occasions the files had been slightly moved. Private had said it must have been a draft in the safe, after all, they were only off by an eighth of an inch or two. Then there had been the Shelly affair. Alius had acted as if he'd known Kowalski's moves before he even made them, almost as if he'd read Kowalski's plans. That had been enough evidence to bring it to Rockgut._

_Rockgut had given him a simple solution: leave dummy papers in the safe in his office, and place the other papers in a secure enough location which would be the last place Alius would think to look, namely a set of offices Penguin hadn't used since 1946. The airfield had been returned to the Army Air Corps and subsequently the Air Force, but after some string pulling Kowalski had been able to reclaim his old untouched office, which quickly became a secret storage space for evidence, documents and inventions of importance. It had worked. For two months. It's end was swift, Kowalski and the team had been sent up to Alaska, and when they came back, the airfield had been decommissioned and sold to a private defence contractor owned by Alius. Naturally, Alius had had no idea Kowalski had set up there, but unfortunately classified testing had already begun at the site, though Kowalski could request his personal belonging brought out. However, all that wasn't in the secret storage place – which Kowalski knew was what Alius was really after – was nothing more than a cover. However, every minute Kowalski left Alius in charge of the facility, the greater the chance he'd find the hidden room._

_Kowalski's current mission was simple: extract and photograph the most important pieces, then destroy it, and make it look like an accident. This was all strictly off the books._

_The minute hand on Kowalski's wristwatch slowly crawled up to the centre of the '12' marking the time as 0100 hours. Like a racer who'd just heard the starter's gun fire, Kowalski dashed the two meters between the shrub he was crouched beneath and the barbed wire topped fence. Alius had gotten the fence wired with electricity and laced with vibration sensors, so Kowalski had simply dug a tunnel under it. He dived down the tunnel like a rabbit, covering it with a bit of shrubbery after him and giving the earth above and a meter beyond a good shove, Kowalski resurfaced on the other side of the fence. Never before had he been so glad Skipper had insisted on so many escape tunnels._

_The next part was easy. Certainly, Alius had set up guards, but Kowalski had spent several years of his life evading guards to the point he claimed he'd mastered it to a fine art. He reminded himself of that as he dodged from cover to cover till he came to the door of the main building. He didn't bother with that since it was almost certainly alarmed, instead opting to climb to the roof of the single story building via a convenient tree and enter through a skylight. After that, it was a simple matter to find his old office. He had another fifteen minutes before the office would be checked, and by then he'd be safely behind the panel. Kowalski had the electronic key in his hand and had unpicked the lock on the door. What could possibly go wrong now?_

_Voices in the corridor negated the thought almost before it had crossed his mind. Kowalski dived into his office, not as silently as he'd hoped, and dived behind his desk. The voices were too close now, if he opened the panel, there was a chance they might walk in on him. Immediately afterwards he regretted that. What were the odds they weren't simply going to pass by? What was he so worried for, even if they poked their head in, it wasn't like they were going to make a thorough enough search of the room to even find him hidden behind the desk._

_"… Damn, we're five minutes late searchin' the room, the boss is gonna be mad…" A voice outside the door fretted. The footsteps stopped. So did Kowalski's heart, or at least that was how he felt._

_"How's he going to know? Anyway, there's never anyone in there, anyhow. I don't think he'd know even if we didn't check." Kowalski breathed a silent sigh of relief. You could always count on the incompetence and laziness of flunkies._

_"Not a chance." A third voice countered, "Joey told me one time a pal of his took two minutes off a job to see his gal, not a chance anyone coulda known, but the moment he got back the boss knew from a smudge on his cuff or somethin' like that like he was psychic or something. No one's heard of him since."_

_"I heard he was sent back to loading boxes." Added the first voice gravely._

_"Worse, a pal of mine told me the boss shot him dead on the spot. Not a moment of hesitation. Y'know, maybe we oughta check. Just in case. It won't hurt." Kowalski silently cursed Alius' ability to spread urban legends amongst his cannon fodder. The door opened slowly, shedding a beam of light across the room. "Cecil, you oughta cover the door just in case the boss finds out you didn't." _

_"I'd better search behind the desk first too. The boss said that was the most likely hiding place." Kowalski found himself captured within the next thirty seconds. There was only one thing left for him to do._

_"You're wasting your time." Kowalski stated between gritted teeth, "The universe will implode on itself before I ever tell you where the safe is." Actually, he was almost certain he was about to tell them within the next two minutes. A high threshold for physical pain wasn't something he could lay claim to. The knife dug deeper into his skin and Kowalski gave a less than dignified yell of pain. "Great science! The safe's in the ceiling, the left corner closest to the door – no, not your left, my left!" Protons, he'd hoped he wouldn't talk that quickly. _

_"Hey, Brick, there is some kind of metal panel thing up here!" The enemy Kowalski had identified as 'Cecil' called down from where he was stood atop a chair. "Say, how do you get this thing open?" He demanded of Kowalski, but the scientist didn't seem to be entirely listening, "I asked how you open this thing!"_

_"Huh, yeah?" Kowalski replied distantly. He groaned, "Could you give me a glass of water, 's just over there on the table? I can't think… everything's kinda blurry."_

_"Yeah, I forgot nerds are delicate." Brick muttered as he obliged. He extended the beaker of clear liquid towards the scientist, who shakily extended a hand to accept it. His closed hand hovered limply above the glass for a moment like he had tried to grab it but went too high, but suddenly his hand opened and a small metal object dropped into the liquid and began to fizz and distort. In a second moment Kowalski went to push the acid onto Brick, but wasn't quite fast enough. He wasn't as weak as he was pretending, but he wasn't doing so well, "Hey, you tried to drink that acid so you couldn't talk!" _

_"No, you idiot, I dropped the electronic key in the acid, so now it's impossible to open the door." Kowalski replied victoriously. For a moment or two there was some intense shouting and flinging of objects at the metal ceiling, but nothing happened. Kowalski could see the two were quite seriously convinced of the vault's impenetrability as they sat down to rest. "You might as well turn yourself in. People are going to trace me here long before the technology is ever invented to open that door." Cecil began to nodded._

_"He's right, Brick, it's impossible." Brick nodded in agreement, then frowned._

_"If it's impossible, we should call the boss, then, he'll know how to get it open." Kowalski muttered something about the urban legend perpetuating, but Brick was too busy telephoning Alius' office, "… Yeah, boss, we're having some trouble with an unwelcome guest at the airfield… by the way, we have found the parcel… Fifteen minutes… Yes sir!" Brick hung up the phone, smiling smugly at Kowalski, then turned to Cecil. He whispered the following, unaware that Kowalski could read lips, "The boss says we should find out where he parked his car. If it's close we're supposed to drive it back here, cut the break line and wait for him. It's the best way to dispose of the body."_

_Kowalski wasn't entirely certain how long he sat there, though it didn't seem like long, reflecting over how horribly wrong everything had gone. He could practically hear Skipper's voice in his head lecturing him on why they worked as a team. He could hear Rico bemoaning his making exactly the same mistake as their leader and leaving him and Private alone. He could already imagine Private finding some illogical way to blame himself at his funeral._

_And that was when the smoke grenade smashed through the window._

_There wasn't much Kowalski could describe. The room had filled with thick white smoke and barely a second later he'd felt a sharp pain on the back of his head and he'd lost consciousness directly afterwards. When he woke again Kowalski lying on the floor of the office with a splitting headache, Cecil and Brick had been incapacitated, the vault was untouched, though the office looked like it had been hit by a tornado. According to Kowalski's watch the time was 0137, and five minutes later when Kowalski was just getting to his feet, the team arrived, having been tipped off by an anonymous informant. This would become known in subsequent weeks as the first of the 'Guardian Angel Incidents'._

* * *

"That was you, wasn't it?" Kowalski grinned giddily. Skipper nodded nonchalantly.

"Yeah, that was. I couldn't just listen to a plot to murder my best friend on what I thought was Hans' private telephone and just sit there. After that I figured it was a good idea to keep an eye on you." He replied offhandedly. When his eyes lifted from the table he'd been fixated on while he waited for Kowalski to ask that one awkward question he was certain the scientist would ask soon, he noticed Kowalski was still staring at him disbelievingly. "Well, go ahead, sit down while you're here," Skipper motioned to one of the chairs that surrounded the table in one of the back rooms of the Copacabana, "I appreciate your attempt to remain dignified and manly, Kowalski, instead of screamin' like a girl, but it ain't workin'."

"I know!" Kowalski barely squeaked with excitement and somehow found the initiative to sit down. "You know, I'd always thought the crash was a little too cut and dried, but I never let myself belive it!"

"Yeah, of course." Skipper muttered. He could see the question beginning to form in Kowalski's mind… there had been something Skipper had been upset about before, something he could change the subject to. "Marlene, what were you thinking bringing him here? You disobeyed a direct order from me!"

"I'm sorry Skipper, but he forced me." Marlene replied innocently. "And I still think it was for the best." She added. "Happy accidents happen."

"Kowalski forced you, huh?" Skipper replied, studying the two of them. He shrugged, "Well, command's made you more ruthless than I could have hoped, Kowalski." Skipper replied, keeping up the air of casualness. He had a sneaking suspicion he wasn't doing much better than Kowalski. However, as he was congratulating himself for a distraction well done, Kowalski's expression darkened.

"Why?"


	10. Bending the Rules

Skipper winced.

"Marlene, be a doll and get me another drink?"

"Sure, Skipper, tell me when the big strong men have finished crying together." She replied dryly.

"Thanks." Skipper replied as she left. He didn't feel like a debate, "I had to…" He paused, "The thing about chasing Hans was he'd always make you cross boundaries. Sometimes I was amazed by what the team could achieve, other times I was horrified by what we were driven to do. It finally occurred to me after… you know the operation I'm talking about." Kowalski nodded gravely, and Skipper continued, "Hans has to be stopped, somebody was going to have to do it, but I didn't want to see Private have to do what I did or watch Hans do to him anything like what he did to Marlene. Again."

"Skipper, what did we agree in '44 about you trying to do 'selfless and heroic' stuff? We signed up for this too, we…"

"It wasn't for the team." Skipper snapped, "It was for me. Hans knew the one way to get to me was through the team, and I couldn't take it anymore!" For a moment Kowalski simply sat in shocked silence, "That's the only time anyone's going to hear me say that."

"What's so special about Marlene, then?" Kowalski replied, and for a moment there was an almost jealous note in his voice, "I mean, Hans hurt her most of all, or don't you care about her enough?"

"This is what I started to hate about working with you, Kowalski, you turned everyone with the slightest piece of bad luck into, what did Nigel call it, 'an analogy for Doris'?" Kowalski just glared at him, "I didn't have a choice with Marlene, one day she just turned up climbing through my window demanding what I thought I was up to faking my own death. As far as Hans was concerned I'd cut off all connection to all of you and so had generally left you alone, but the moment someone had reported me and Marlene had been seen together, she'd never be safe again. I thought she could handle it, anyway. I'm not so sure anymore, though. I can see all this running eating away at her, even if she won't admit it. That's why I didn't want you brought into this too."

"You clearly haven't talked to someone confidentially in a while." Kowalski commented. Skipper's expression indicated Kowalski was right.

"So, I heard you're trying to avenge Doris." Skipper changed the subject. Dealing with other people's impossible situations was always easier than dealing with his own. At that moment Marlene returned and pulled up a chair.

"Was." Kowalski replied. "I'm being boxed in on all sides and I figure I've got days before someone shuts me down and comes up with an excuse to put me behind bars. Even Rockgut's turning on me, and he knows exactly where I've buried my skeletons – metaphorical skeletons…"

"Easy, Kowalski, I know you're no murderer."

"You oughta tell that to Private some time." Kowalski muttered. Skipper raised an eyebrow, "Inside joke, you might have heard about the McSlade case, there was kind of a misunderstanding about my part in it. I just don't know what to do about Alius, he's been two steps ahead of me this whole time – and that's the last time you'll hear me say that."

"Don't know what to do except drink yourself into a dishonourable discharge." Marlene replied disapprovingly.

"Actually, I was trying to get my nerve up to storm Alius' fortress while I've got something left to storm with." Kowalski countered. "I just don't know… This whole command thing's never sat well with me, I think of options, I don't choose which one we use. I'm out of even options now, though."

"Kowalski," she began, "sometimes there are cases that don't get solved, sometimes never, no matter how hard you..."

"Marlene, what would you be doing now if less than two months ago you got a call from Skipper saying he was going to be in town for a week and wanted to meet you for lunch. However, the next time you saw him he was lying dead on the floor of a warehouse because the guy who was supposed to be looking out for him - I don't know, me - I'd shot him." Skipper looked uncomfortably away from Marlene.

"Then you wouldn't be alive enough to say that to me now." She replied coldly.

"The game doesn't work like that anymore for us unless you want to go down for murder and bring the rest of the team with you." Kowalski countered. Marlene appeared to agree.

"Well, usually I'm the one who suggests full frontal assault, but since you've already put that on the table and I rejected it, I can't do that." Skipper replied thoughtfully, after a moment, "But if you're really that desperate, I can think of one last card we can play…"

Marlene could tell by the dubiously sane grins as they discussed the far from optimum plan that she'd made the right choice. For Kowalski, the need was obvious, but Skipper hadn't been so far from a collision course these past few years either. Anyway, it was clear to anyone except maybe Skipper and Kowalski that the team needed to be a team. Marlene also knew that was about as close to an 'I told you so' she was going to get considering both parties delicate egos.

* * *

"'s beautiful up here, ain' it?" Randy commented, staring out at the Manhattan skyline from the roof of the museum, "An' see, that's the Empire State Building, the tall one right there." He smiled at the brunet next to him. "Best date you've ever been on?" Marlene smiled sweetly back.

"Oui."

"See, this is one of the perks of doin' my job, repairin' roofs." He continued, pulling Marlene a little closer, "I hope you're gonna be stayin' here a while, 'cause New York's a real magical place and…" Marlene shivered, and moved to stand up. "Hey, sweetheart, where are you going?"

"My coat." She replied, "I left it at the bottom of the ladder."

"Yeah, don't want the night watchman spotting that." Randy agreed, "Then it wouldn't be just us up here. I'll go down and get it. You stay right here, keep away from the edges." Marlene nodded and sat back down as Randy disappeared down the ladder to the ground.

The moment her way into the museum after hours was gone, Marlene walked up to the edge of the roof, swung one leg over the edge, then the other. Like a cat she dropped from hanging by her hands to the window sill below, landing silently. The lock on the window took her barely a moment to pick and soon enough she was standing on the museum's top floor. She shut the window silently behind her so there was nothing amiss, grabbed a step ladder and a tarp which were being used in the renovations and walked swiftly past a Monet and towards the service stairs she took down to the basement.

She reviewed the list as her feet pattered down the stairs in the dark. She knew where the guards were, she knew the exact size of every step and how many of them there were – she even knew the owner's names and licence plates of every car in the parking lot and how many parking tickets each one had. She didn't really need the flashlight she shone a few steps ahead of her, but was always ready to turn off. With ten steps to go she paused. She already knew that around the next corner there were two guards stood outside the front of the entrance to the museum's storage rooms. None of the eight items, of which she was going to take two, were on display, nor did their owner ever intend them to be.

According to the plans, there was an air vent right above her head. She set up the step ladder on the tarp, balancing it precariously on the stairs. It was points like these where Marlene knew she was making a deal with fate. All it would take is for her to slip, she might break her neck, she might be caught, but she was betting on the opposite. She climbed the ladder, every step the ladder shivered slightly on the tarp. Marlene stood up straight on the second rung from the top, throwing herself into trust before she could have time to think about it. That was the way she'd always done things, ever since the beginning, but that fraction of an urge to stall was still there. She still didn't know how Skipper had seemingly eliminated it entirely.

Marlene glanced over her shoulder one last time at the stairs behind her before taking out her handbag and removing a small pouch containing what looked like a bunch of oversized mildly misshapen marbles and tipping them down the air vent. They bumped and clanged noisily down the air vent as Marlene folded the ladder and tarp in no apparent hurry and set them along the side of the stairs like they'd been left there by one of the workmen. Marlene heard the little pieces of metal continuing down the metal tunnel and into the heavily guarded storage room down the hall. The effect was almost immediate.

"Do you hear someone in the air vent?" Marlene heard one of the guards ask before there was an all-out charge to get into the room. Marlene heard a few shouts followed by a gunshot, but the metal marbles kept going. Marlene walked lightly down the stairs, turned the corner and walked directly past the distracted guards and into the janitor's closet two doors down. She took a length of what looked like thick wire from her bag and pressed it against the wall forming a large rectangle. She took a lighter from her pocket and lit one end of the wire and averted her eyes.

"He's trying to cut through into the room!" one of the guards shouted in the next room. Marlene just smiled and turned back in time to grab the cut away section of wall and quietly move it to the side before it could fall. That kind of noise might alert them to the fact they were gathered in the wrong room. After all, what kind of a master art thief would leave their brand new stronghold alone in favour of a room that many of them suspected hadn't been opened since 1927?

Marlene stepped through the hole in the wall into the room beyond, once again ignored all the presentation easels displaying largely worthless paintings (though gave the recently booby-trapped door on her right a smug glance) and went straight for the safe at the end of the room. It was an ancient model, easily cracked, that was full of brown paper wrapped paintings that looked like they hadn't been touched since they were donated. Marlene took a bottle of a clear liquid from her bag that looked like clear nail polish and painted a long strip across the tops of the exposed parcels. She gave it a few seconds, then smiled as a greyish tint appeared on some of the papers.

"What do ya know, sometimes Kowalski's science projects work." She mused to herself. At least, she hoped what Kowalski had called "high school chemistry" worked, but the count of what the chemical revealed as the newer parcels (though all of them looked as old as the safe) matched the number she was looking for. She grabbed six of the parcels that tested positive and started back towards the hole in the wall then waited.

The phone rang exactly on time. Marlene couldn't hear the other side of the conversation, only the loud responses of the answering guard, but she knew who the caller was and what he was saying.

"Lieutenant Joey Amberley…? Police headquarters… yes, sir…" He stammered. Joey was an old favourite for decoy impersonations; her accomplice loved doing Australian accents. She also enjoyed causing trouble for him. Marlene remembered the gist of the story he was about to be fed: Joey had been driving by when he noticed a suspicious figure climbing out of an upstairs window, likely in the process of escaping. The guard hung up at that point and with the exception of a single sentry there was a general stampede in the direction of the front. After that it was too easy. Marlene disabled the single guard with a smoke bomb and a blow to the head – she'd barely stopped moving. After that it was a simple matter of keeping out of sight on the way to the near empty parking lot, where she located the licence plate she wanted, hotwired the car and drove casually away. She was three blocks away when the first squad car arrived.

Marlene noticed a squad car behind her when she stopped at the light. When the light turned green, she swerved slightly to avoid another car and protested loudly. Half a block later the police car quietly pulled her over.

"Excuse me, ma'am, can you step out of the car?"

She'd been picked up due to the owner of the car having several outstanding parking tickets. Imagine the officers surprise when they realized they'd just caught an international art thief instead. However, the paintings were missing.


	11. 49

_October, 1949_

_Skipper muttered an angry-word-not-to-be-said-in-front-of-the-Private when he saw Kowalski appear beside him, but it was drowned out by the noise of the anti-aircraft gun. He'd hoped the team wouldn't catch up with him that quickly. Unfortunately, sometimes Kowalski's actions were smarter than Skipper expected him to be. Immediately Skipper's attention locked back on to making sure the rapidly disappearing aircraft ended its flight in a fiery explosion as soon as possible. All he could think of was that Hans could not escape again. He'd promised himself that the moment he'd gotten the intel on Hans' location. That was why he'd gone to all that trouble to leave the team behind on this one: it didn't matter how, but this was going to be the last time Hans hurt anyone – no more jail cells, no more attempts at getting him to trial – and the methods he knew he was willing to use might not put the team in a particularly good legal standing._

_There was a yell of delight as one of the anti-aircraft shells exploded just under the tail of the plane, scoring a minor hit, but a split second after a minor leap of hope Skipper's expression changed. As Skipper had learned from harsh experience, Hans was an excellent pilot, likely on par with himself. Whoever was in that Hurricane was having far too much trouble dodging the anti-aircraft fire._

_The moment Skipper realized the fighter was a decoy his eyes did a sweep of the perimeter, but his gut told him he should take a closer look at the hanger. He glanced over his shoulder to make sure Kowalski was busy with the Hurricane and ran into the nearest hangar. _

_At first there was nothing. After the deafening noise of shooting the hangar felt eerily quiet, though in actuality the rolled steel structure did little to soften the noise. A Wellington bomber stood pride of place in the centre of the room, but otherwise at first glance it appeared to be devoid of all human life. At second glance, it was equally empty. Skipper had decided to inspect the far corner of the room behind the far wing of the plane before leaving when he heard voices shouted over the noise of the shooting. At first Skipper couldn't understand it, and wondered if the bullet that had grazed the side of his head earlier had done more damage than he thought, but quickly realized it was because they weren't speaking in English._

_"…Well, can you fly?" Skipper translated, instantly recognising Hans' voice._

_"No – but you must take me with you…" Replied another voice Skipper didn't recognise. He assumed it was one of the surviving criminals Hans had arrived at the airbase with. Skipper didn't think twice before climbing into the bomber and out of sight as Hans approached further._

_"Then you have absolutely no use to me." The comment was quickly followed by the sharp sound of a pistol shot. There were no further protests, "I don't have time, money or fuel for dead weight." He muttered and Skipper dived under the navigator's table as Hans climbed into the plane. Skipper wondered if Hans was intending to hide there till he heard the engines starting up. Skipper started forward, slowly at first, despite the sudden panic that seized him, trying to be as quiet as possible. Remembering his previous experiences of trying to sneak up on Hans and feeling the plane start to taxi forward, Skipper increased his pace, but the plane was already gaining dangerous speed by the time Skipper leapt at the controls. _

_Hans tried to push Skipper away from the controls with a wild, reflex motion that made Skipper realize he'd caught him by surprise. Skipper pushed his advantage, attempting to cut the engines, but Hans had recovered from his surprise and sent Skipper stumbling backwards with well-timed kick. As Skipper's vision swam after striking his head on something painfully metallic, Hans turned his attention to the controls. Skipper felt them gaining speed, as he stumbled to his feet and launched himself at Hans again. Distracted by the task of taking off Skipper quickly gained control but already he felt that odd sensation that occurs when an aircraft begins to leave the ground. As the plane lifted, Skipper had no choice but to grab the controls and complete the take-off and immediately land again. _

_Skipper glanced over his right shoulder and was briefly surprised to see Hans had disappeared before he barely ducked in time to avoid being hit from the left by Hans' pistol. But his dodge had knocked joystic, sending the plane into a short dive, but Skipper pulled out quickly and turned the plane back towards the airfield just as Hans made another attempt at the controls._

_Hans tried to push Skipper out of the way, but Skipper pushed back desperately and for a moment had the upper hand. Then Hans did something unexpected. As Skipper went to more carefully dodge what seemed to be another attack on him, Hans suddenly changed tack and went for the control stick. Suddenly Skipper found himself thrown backwards as the plane went into an unexpected loop. He grabbed on to something on the wall that prevented him from hitting the ceiling but not from hitting the side as Hans rolled recklessly out of the loop._

_"What's wrong with you?" Skipper snapped as he pulled himself to his feet, "If you keep fighting you're going to get us both killed!" He didn't give Hans time to answer before he charged at the controls again. The answer was obvious: as much as Hans seemed quite sane and logical he was actually stark raving mad, similar to how he'd deceived them into thinking he was actually a decent guy. _

_"If I surrender to you I'm dead anyway, so I'm no worse off by taking my chances." Hans replied as he lost control of the plane only to regain it again briefly a few seconds later. The plane rocked in the air as the control stick was battered about in the fight like a storm tossed boat with a drunken captain. "If anyone's refusal to surrender is going to get us killed, it's you, Skippar."_

_"I don't know the meaning of surrender!"_

_"Strange, considering how you just used it," Hans answered sarcastically, "Well, in that case, you are as much of an idiot as your lieutenant so often claims. The truly intelligent thing to do would be to 'sit back and enjoy the ride' as you Americans apparently say!" Hans, deliberately, or more likely not kicked the control stick and the plane went into another sudden dive. Both combatants were thrown away from the controls. Skipper felt the plane gaining dangerous speed, and the trees rushed up to impale him faster than Skipper could barely perceive. He found himself amazed that the altimeter could keep up before his stunned mind snapped into gear again and he started to drag himself towards the controls. Hans had gotten a wrench or some other metal object in his hand when Skipper looked behind him and looked poised to throw it, but Skipper didn't have any other choice than to keep moving. Skipper got to the controls and pulled out of the dive and was climbing steadily before he heard anything else from Hans. Apparently he was less apathetic about crashing than he claimed. Ironically, though, Skipper's reason for continuing to fight was exactly the same as Hans: surrender would mean death, and a death that Hans' track record indicated would be far from painless._

_Skipper wasn't entirely sure how many times the plane plummeted towards the ground then soared into the air as Skipper and Hans continued to fight for control over the plane, Hans turning it out to sea, Skipper changing course back towards the airfield. On some level Skipper was aware the wind was blowing them out towards the sea, giving Hans an advantage. Suddenly the boom of anti-aircraft fire filled the air and Skipper's struggle to keep himself airborne was doubled. The plane rocked and rattled under the strain of fight and from the nearby shelling like it would shake itself to pieces in the air. Even when either Skipper or Hans was predominantly in control, the blasts were getting closer as the gunners corrected their aim. The medium sized bomber seemed to respond infuriatingly sluggishly to Skipper and Hans who'd both flown fighters during the war as well as the fact it was steadily losing height and airspeed. _

_The end came with a literal bang. Skipper felt the shrapnel hit the plane and heard the chilling sound of tearing metal. Neither of them had been directly at the controls at the time and the blast had thrown them backwards. At first as Skipper looked out the window he'd thought they'd come out fortunately undamaged. Then he saw the first lick of flame and the damaged wing. There was another burst and the plane twisted sideways and it was only by sheer instinct that Skipper had managed to prevent them from going into a spin before he was thrown against the other side of the cockpit. _

_Skipper yelled in pain as the radio set that had somehow gotten loose earlier hit his right arm, pinning him against the side. He saw Hans about a foot away from him, reeling from a bad landing as the plane lurched again. A piece of loose metal, most likely fuselage, came hurtling towards them and Skipper barely had time to think before he pushed Hans towards the controls and the piece of metal threw him back against the wall again. _

_Skipper could hear the wounded plane screaming in protest in tandem with the pain in his head. In a strange, abstract way, Skipper could feel them losing altitude, but now at a slower, more controlled pace than before. He was also aware of a crushing pain in his upper arm and shoulder that seemed to hold him in place as the plane jolted lower and lower in the air. Finally, there was a jarring bump that interrupted Skipper's foggy decent. He hadn't been sure if the feeling of floating was from his own mind or the fast decent. His arm gave a burst of pain at every bump the plane hit before it slowed to a stop, though Skipper was aware through his throbbing head that the weight had been lifted from his shoulder, leaving only pain. Maybe it was broken?_

_"Hm, Skippar, you aren't looking very well." Two or three Hans that seemed to merge and detach from each other at will spoke. Skipper became aware of a weight on his shoulder and for a moment he thought the radio set had come back, except the radio set looked like Hans' boot. Simultaneously Skipper became aware that Hans had taken the knife from his pocket. The feeling of the point of the blade against his neck cleared most of the fog. "I feel sort of cheated, actually. I've probably got less than ten minutes before your team finds you and I'll have to be long gone."_

_"If you wanted time you should have killed me six years ago when you made Doris lure me and Marlene into your trap." Skipper managed to mutter, "Wasn't like you were going to get anything out of us."_

_""Juno, Gold, Omaha, Utah and Sword"." Hans mused, "I did get two very important pieces of information out of you, the code names and rough timing of the invasion, though I didn't realize the significance of the names immediately. I didn't put it together fast enough to tell anyone, but I did manage to put together a plan to get out of the country that would have worked but for Buck Rockgut. Still, why focus on the past when you have a Skipper to kill in the present?" Skipper felt the knife press deeper into the side of his neck and a warm trickle of blood ooze from the, currently, shallow cut. He tried to pull himself away, but Hans had him pinned firmly to the ground, and he only succeeded in digging the knife in deeper. So this was it. Oddly, enough, despite his fear, Skipper felt somewhat satisfied in perhaps the first certainty in months: as he looked up at his soon to be killer, he knew Hans was just as dead as he was. His body would make Rockgut finally turn out all resources on neutralizing Hans and the team wouldn't rest until Hans was undoubtedly dead. The chase, the fear of what Hans was going to do next, the blood and the pain was all over._


	12. Trap

_Suddenly Hans steppe back, examining Skipper's knife and the drop or two of blood on it a moment before pocketing it like a souvenir. _

_"No, I'd rather you watch you lose your entire team, if you persist on chasing after me. I'd consider that a stronger incentive than watching you die now." He started towards one of the aircraft's exits, "After all, if I just kill you, nothing will stop your team from hunting me down, extradition treaty or not because they'll mistakenly belive they have nothing to lose. Consider your life a peace offering. Leave me alone, or by the time we meet again I'll have thought of much more interesting ways to make dear Marlene and Private's deaths just as memorable as their lives. But then, who knows, maybe the plane will catch fire before you can get out of it."_

_Maybe it was the headache, but Hans seemed to disappear into the bleaching beams of sunlight that streamed through the windows. The light seemed blinding but warm and soft and when Skipper awoke after realizing he'd blacked out, Hans was long gone. He hauled himself to his feet, Hans' parting words going around and around in his head. Hans had managed to put out the fire some how on the way down, as the machine still lay barely smoking on the sand on it's landing gear. It was in that strange, terrifying, lonely silence that Skipper made up his mind. He climbed into the cockpit and started the engine again. Amazingly, they started, and when the plane didn't immediately explode he started taxiing it down the beach. _

_Skipper tore off his bomber jacket as the plane gained speed again and secured it to the co-pilot's seat with one hand. The plane started to rise as Skipper used a few bits of scrap to weakly hold the control stick in place. Skipper ran towards the hole in the fuselage and managed to crawl out and dive into the shallow water below as the piece dislodged. A wave from the plane's impact pushed him onto shore and Skipper watched as the plane drifted on towards some rocks a little further down. Somewhere in the distance Skipper heard a jeep's motor. That must be Kowalski._

_The pang of guilt at what he was about to do and a sudden feeling of lonlieness as he realized that terrified, lost and isolated feeling on the beach was going to last forever caused him to run an extra couple of meters to a cave that would undoubtably overlook the search, but keep him concealed. However, in the end, he decided to continue along the beach till he could find a quiet escape. He couldn't take the chance he'd turn back. _

* * *

"This is really very adorable," Marlene smiled sweetly. She playfully slipped her handcuffs for the second time and Joey immediately put them back on tighter in hopes they'd stay on, "All this trouble just for me?" Joey scowled.

"You impersonated an officer of the law, Miss, more importantly you impersonated me…"

"Get your facts straight, that was my accomplice." Marlene corrected as she sat down in the chair Joey had been about to direct her to and slipped her cuffs again. Joey cursed and tossed yet another improvised lock pick out the door of his office. He couldn't imagine where she kept getting them from.

"You still haven't told us the name of this mysterious accomplice you keep referring to." Joey commented. "I told the commissioner you were lying when you promised you'd cooperate. If I had my way I'd have put you in the nearest maximum security prison I could find then misplace you till you were pushing ninety."

"Oh, I'm cooperating." Marlene countered, "All you had to do was ask for his name: Captain Jack Knife, also affectionately known as "Skipper"…"

"You've got some nerve disgracing the memory of a fine officer!" Joey snapped angrily, "Come on, out with it, who is he? It's Kowalski, isn't it, still keeping up that crazy crusade of his, trying to make being an honest cop harder than it already is…"

"Joey." The former Private's voice called through the intercom. "Step out for a second." The Australian gave Marlene a parting glare before slamming the door of the office after him. Marlene depressed the button on the intercom – she'd deactivated the warning buzzer when she'd briefly been taken into the commissioner's office – and heard every word. "Tell Joey what you just told me."

"Well," Began a nervous sounding man. Marlene could practically hear the archive dust in his scholarly cough, "I'm the curator of the museum whose paintings were stolen… I mean that the paintings were stolen from…"

"Excellent," Joey interrupted, "Well, we're going to have to keep the paintings as evidence and there's going to be some papers to sign…"

"But that's the problem, detective, those aren't our paintings." The curator cut him off in a pained voice, "I have absolutely no idea how they ended up in one of our storage rooms and they certainly have never been on the museum's inventory. Why, they were last seen during the war and were believed lost forever: I am both dismayed by the fact they found their way in there unnoticed and also overjoyed that these treasures are unharmed, but…"

"You've got to be kidding me!" Joey exclaimed, "A nice open and shut case and now I've got to find out who the dame stole the paintings from?"

"It is quite a mystery." The commissioner concurred, "Is the prisoner secure enough in your office? A representative of the FBI and gentleman from Interpol are here…" Marlene lost the conversation as the three men left and a few seconds later Marlene saw them leave via the elevator.

* * *

"Your identification again, please?" the officer at the desk asked. The document was quickly handed to him for the third time.

"Agent Jack Knife, P. E. N. G. U. I. N.," The officer read aloud, frowning. "And you also said you were an NYPD officer stationed here before the war, correct?"

"Yes, like I said when you couldn't find my paperwork, just get my file out of the basement."

"So you were a captain in the Air Corps, popularly known as the man started the urban legend of 'The Skipper'?"

"I hate to brag, but, yeah." The officer looked extremely puzzled by this.

"According to my records, you were killed in action." He gave the man on the other side of a second inspection, but he seemed quite solid. The officer seemed to be wondering how appropriate it was to ask Knife to attempt to put his hand through the wall, "You are Agent Knife, correct?"

"Yes." Knife snapped, "M. I. A.? Let me see that file…" He snatched the document from the stunned officer.

"You do match the description…"

"Of course, I do." Knife scanned the file, his annoyance growing with every page, "Yes, that's me. Damn pencil pushers, I go off to defend the free world for a few years and they declare me dead." Of course, he knew better than that, but it was going to take longer to explain the faked death and return from the grave than to put it down to a bureaucratic error, "Well, you can see it's me, alright, and my Penguin ID checks out?"

"Well, it's a little out of date, I mean, 1946, they're supposed to be updated every five years..."

"So I grabbed the wrong badge, do you really want to make me go all the way back to my office to get the updated one? There's no reason why you can't let me through, then?" All he got was an uncertain stare, "Clearly I'm perfectly alive and well, but I'm working an important case and I don't have time for you to sic the whole pencil pusher platoon on me to tell me something that's obvious to everyone with a pair of eyes."

Nobody put up a protest as Knight entered the elevator and got out at the floor he'd been told Marlene was being held on. Flashing his identification irritably at anyone who intercepted him, he marched across to room to Joey's office and shut the door after him.

"What did you do with my paintings?" He demanded, all pretence of an American accent disappearing. Marlene uncrossed her legs casually and looked up at the newcomer, "Well?" Hans barked, "Where did you put them?"

"You mean the paintings from the museum?" Marlene replied, "They were yours?" Of course they were his. That was why she'd stolen them.

"Yes, they were mine! I went to a lot of trouble to procure them to finance the rest of my life, and I want them back."

"Well, what were they doing in the basement of a museum, then?" She replied. She knew already. Where was the best place to hide a painting other than amongst a whole bunch of other paintings?

"Why do you think I put them there? As an anonymous donation? Tell me where they are or 'Agent Knife' can take over your case and we can find out just how well that old leg wound of yours healed." Marlene paused, barely a moment, her mind working furiously. She needed a little more time.

"I fenced them already, I have no idea where they are now. Look, I had no idea they were your paintings, I just took the ones that were valuable…" The subtle change in Hans' expression from annoyance to suspicion made Marlene trail off mid-sentence.

"How did you know they were the most valuable?" He asked.

"Give me a little credit, I know an old master from an obscure study." But Marlene had an uneasy feeling it was already too late.

"You wouldn't have had time to look at the paintings." Hans countered, "You already knew they were my paintings." He glanced around the room as if looking for something invisible. "This was a trap, wasn't it?"

"The room's wired, Skipper's been listening to all of this." Marlene admitted. "And he's on his way up here right now. Little hint: the first step of surrender is you hand over your gun and whatever other dangerous toys you've got up your sleeve, then…" But Hans had already entirely lost interest in her.

The door slammed shut after him but Marlene heard the gunshot he'd fired, hopefully, into the ceiling.

"I want everyone standing against the windows within the next thirty seconds. If you aren't there at thirty one seconds, I use you for target practice!" She heard him shout over the commotion, "You, tell me how I lock down the floor." Marlene heard an alarm wail and the whirring of metal. Of course, any Penguin associated building would have a lock down protocol. There was another gunshot and a metallic sound. He'd just shot the control panel. He'd just locked them all in!

The door of the office opened again and Marlene made a half-hearted attempt to draw the pistol Kowalski had slipped her after her arrest, but Hans already had her covered.

"Drop the gun, Marlene, or do I need to remind you of the first step of surrender?" The weapon clattered to the floor, "Handcuff yourself to the radiator, and I want to see at least ten lock picks on the other side of the room in the next fifteen seconds." Marlene hurriedly began to comply. How on earth had he guessed the exact number? "I know you can hear me, Skippar," He spoke as Marlene's blood turned to liquid nitrogen, "it was a clever little trap, at least, I assume your lieutenant thought so, and I certainly am trapped, but I'm not defeated. I've taken the entire floor hostage, but before you attempt to reason with me, I have absolutely no interest in it. You're going to listen as one by one I'm going to kill every living thing in here remotely associated with you. I'm going to take my time, so it should take about six hours in total, faster if you try to break in. Last of all, of course, will be Marlene, and then I think you'll be quite capable of dealing with me. Tell me, Skippar, how does winning feel now?"


	13. Hostage

Skipper would have given anything in the world at that moment to take back the past twenty four hours. If he had to pick a runner up, he'd have stolen the paintings himself, or sent Kowalski, because as usual it was really his fault they were in this mess. He saw Joey and the commissioner looking at each other with some doubt, but he and Rockgut knew Hans meant every word he said.

"Kowalski, get me a way to talk to Hans." Skipper ordered. He considered adding something about trying to talk Hans down, but nobody would really belive that. Neither did he, he was just doing it because it was the only thing he could do. He could hear Marlene protesting on the other end of the wire, but Hans was completely ignoring her as he waited for Skipper's response.

"All ready, sir." Kowalski reported a few seconds later, holding a receiver. He had an odd look in his eyes, "Anything you want me to say…?"

"Give me that." Skipper snapped and snatched the phone away. He heard two repeats of the dial tone and two rings through the wire before Hans leisurely picked up.

"Finally, Skippar. You certainly took your time." Hans greeted as if it were no more than a social call, "Remind me, how much was it you claimed to care about Marlene…"

"I'm not interested in banter or any games." Skipper interrupted.

"No banter? No games? Why, are you determined to make our final confrontation boring?"

"Skipper." Kowalski hissed frantically, "Skipper, maybe…"

"Shut up, Kowalski, I don't have the time or the patience this time." He cut the lieutenant off before he could finish. "Alright Hans, here's the situation: I hear you so much speak harshly at a single hostage in there, and I will come charging in there with fifty of this city's finest under orders to shoot to kill. Surrender right now, and the chances you'll even make it to trial increase significantly, Kowalski will back me up on that." Kowalski, in fact, currently looked like he was having some kind of a fit in semaphore.

"Correcting for your exaggerations, I am already well aware of that." Hans replied calmly. "And as I said before…" Hans stopped mid-sentence and Skipper heard the sound of heavy footprints. Then all at once there was a yell, a scream, the clang of something light and metallic hitting the floor and the sound of a small scuffle. This was followed by a barked command obscured by another scream the sound of something heavy being pushed across the floor.

"Hey, let go of me!" Skipper heard Marlene shout, as full of fear as it was fight.

"Really, attempting to get people out through the air vents?" Hans returned to the stage. There was the sound of something crashing to the floor. Marlene sounded like she was putting up a good fight. Then there was the sound of skin hitting skin and the thump of a body hitting the floor, "Nobody will so much as touch the shelf blocking the air vent, understood?" The struggle ended with a groan of pain, "Oh Marlene, I wish I could just knock you out till it's your turn, but that would be more of a mercy to you than to me. Of course you found a paper clip to pick the lock with!"

"If you've harmed her, Hans…" Skipper threatened.

"Skipper," Kowalski could contain himself no longer, "I strongly advise against threatening him, it will only make him more volatile and more likely to…"

"You wanna see volatile, Kowalski? I'll show you volatile!" Skipper slammed the phone down on the receiver so hard Private jumped. "We've got this place surrounded by uniforms, right? Get me two strike teams of the best of them. I wanna hear Hans is either dead or wounded in ten minutes tops, do you hear me? Kowalski, get me the floor plan."

"Sir, I think this is a bad idea…"

"Does that make you incapable of getting me a map? No!" Kowalski reluctantly brought him the required data, "Right, the way I see it, I want one decoy outside the room to draw Hans out, the other one climbs up via the windows from the floor below. Any problems?"

"I think it's a better idea of we try talking him down a little longer…" Rockgut started to suggest.

"You heard him, he's not interested in reasoning. The longer we leave him up there the closer he gets to killing someone." Rockgut appeared to have no objection. Kowalski held an entirely different opinion, but Skipper didn't give him the choice to voice it, "Alright, is that clear? I want that relayed to the teams within two minutes. Joey, I want you running distraction till then."

* * *

Assault team A crept up the staircase like heavily armed mice. Flashlights darted around the wall in a manner Private wouldn't have been able to help himself but define as fairy-like, well, like ominous, edgy fairies. Seeing as he couldn't stop them, Kowalski had impressed on them till the moment they'd gone through the door what Hans could do. Step by step they approached the top floor till at the top of the stairway some of the first flashlights illuminated one of the heavy steel doors that locked down the floor. It looked more like the entrance to a bank vault than to a floor of offices. Fortunately, Kowalski had been able to remotely cut power to the defences, so it was just steel doors in the way. But once again, the scientist had an answer for everything, even if it had to be dragged out of him.

Some of the first flashlights focused on a section of wall just to the right of the secure door. The officer in the lead nodded to the next officer and indicated the area Kowalski had described. Immediately, half the seven strong team moved towards the wall, setting to work on its demolition as quietly as possible. A couple of Rico's well placed explosions outside, and they had the perfect cover noise for speedy but careful demolition. On the explosion before last, just ahead of schedule, they finally exposed the wires. The second officer opened a compact tool kit containing only exactly the tools he'd require and got to work as the others formed a neat circle, covering him on all sides.

He signalled he was all ready within a few minutes. Maybe he didn't bother to tell the others about what he assumed was an irrelevant modification to Kowalski's blueprint of the probable layout of the wall next to the security system, or maybe he just never found it. Skipper could hear what was going on through the radio, but the men had been given strict orders not to say a word if they could help it once they were on the floor. The leading officer watched the seconds count down on his watch, regretting that they'd finished early. The second hand seemed to move like the minute hand for those last two minutes before Team B would make an 'attempt' to enter via the bullet proof windows to draw Hans' attention and the minute hand seemed to move like the hour hand.

He didn't even need to see the second hand crawl up to the twelve as all hell broke loose on the other side of the wall. Rico had made sure Team B made noise like no one had ever heard before.

"Go!" The leader whispered. This was likely his last word. The electrician, his name was Macreadi or Manfred or something like Skipper remembered hearing but not caring at the time, crossed the wires to open the door.

"What? You didn't think I hadn't booby-trapped such an obvious security weakness?" Skipper heard Hans' voice speak after his ears stopped ringing from the split second of the explosion he'd heard before the radio had been disintegrated. "I must thank Private's cousin for storing so many pieces of confiscated Consolidated Amalgamated weaponry up here. I have to say, it's far better than anything the old Kowalski ever produced – please tell him that." For once, Kowalski wouldn't have cared even if he had heard, "Go ahead and send up the medics, if they go about their business, I'll go about mine, but it will be a waste of their time, really." Hans waited for an answer, but nothing happened, "Skippar?"

"You know you've just dug yourself in deeper by doing that, but it's not too late to make a deal." A voice that wasn't Skipper's answered.

"Kowalski, how many times to I have to tell you, considering the fact both of you have wanted me dead for the past ten years, I really won't belive any promise you make that includes me getting out of here alive. And that's all I really care about." Hans answered irritably.

"We're the good guys, remember, our first priority is the hostages." Kowalski countered, trying to keep his voice calm and level, but he was vaguely aware of the fact he'd climbed a quarter of an octave, "Give me your ideal situation and I'll try and work with it."

"Get Skippar back on the phone, I've never had much patience for comedy."

"You can only dictate so much of the situation. We're both going to have to make compromises, but the end goal is to get everyone out of there alive… Actually, can you wait just one second then I'll hand you over to Skipper?"

Kowalski handed the phone to Rico, telling him not to say a word but to alert him if Hans did anything. He didn't want Private to hear any more of this than he already had. Kowalski then turned his attention to Skipper, who was still staring, catatonic, at the radio where he'd dropped it on the table, his stare as unending as the static that it reported. Skipper seemed to notice his lieutenant's attention, but he didn't move his eyes from the radio.

"I just killed those three men." Skipper spoke, his voice dull and almost distant. "I've probably killed one of the hostages too – any minute he's going to do it as some kind of retaliation, probably the minute I get back on that phone – and I just killed them too."

"And there's 26 more people out there who are definitely about to die if you don't get back on that phone." Kowalski hissed, talking a step closer to Skipper. Fortunately, the rest of the room was too busy discussing the recent occurrence in hushed voices to pay much notice to Skipper's behaviour. If anything, they thought it was a careful and thoughtful pause.

"'Walski, Hans say' 'ee gettin' 'mpatient." Rico reported, as if to confirm Kowalski's statement.

"And that's not including Marlene. She's up there counting on you too…"

"Then for the love of Doris Blowhole, deal with it!" Skipper snapped, "Maybe you haven't noticed, but I have no clue what I'm doing; I haven't led a team in over ten years!" A few nervous glances were cast their way. 'Not so loud!' Kowalski's eyes ordered. "You seem to know what you're doing now, you're the new Skipper 2.0 or whatever. I'm just a crazy dead soldier who's used to looking out for himself and his equally crazy girlfriend. It's just me and Hans, no more hostages or dead friends teammates…"

"Listen to me Skipper, you need to get back up there, though maybe next time take a little advice from your lieutenant. Hans played you that last round, he knocked you down one without even having to kill one of the hostages. You did exactly what he wanted you to do…"

"Which is exactly why…"

"No, listen to me: alright, so maybe you aren't the legend people think you are, frankly, you never were even back then despite what you began to let yourself belive; but the point is people think you're some kind of superhuman soldier, which is why Team A went up those stairs without any ques…" Kowalski saw Skipper begin to crawl back under the rock, "which is why nobody is panicking yet. And good leader or overrated relic, we both know what's going to happen if people panic." Kowalski threw an arm over Skipper's shoulder in what looked like a friendly gesture, but used it to force Skipper to turn around and face the commanders. "Look at Rockgut and tell me I'm lying. He knows what Hans is capable of." Kowalski continued to hold Skipper to face the room, discouraging half-hearted resistance, but in the end when the significantly stronger Skipper actually decided to turn away, Kowalski had no choice but to let him.

Skipper gave Kowalski a look of humiliated regret and sat himself down in one of the chairs no one had used since things had gone wrong. His shoulders were alarmingly slumped and his eyes locked on to the floor like targeted missiles.

"I'm sorry Kowalski."

"Don't think I'm entirely ignorant to what you're feeling." Kowalski replied softly after a pause, "I know that panic. If I'd arrived a few hours earlier and seen Doris about to die right in front of me, I'd lose it too. I live through every variable of what that moment was – must have been – every night. But in Marlene's case it hasn't quite happened yet. You can still do what I couldn't and step between her and the bullet."

"Unless I end up being the one firing it!" Skipper countered, "You're right, I am panicking, and I'm going to do something stupid so I'm turning this over to someone who's showing me he won't…"

"You really don't get it, do you?" Kowalski snapped, and solicited a few looks, "Alright, you want me to talk math? Fine, because the math's always right, so you can't argue with it." Actually, Skipper argued with it all the time, despite the fact it was logically impossible. But what Kowalski hoped was that Skipper would then point out after thinking that, that logical had never been his forte. Impossible, on the other hand, was. Skipper said nothing. "Either way, odds are every one of those hostages are going to end up dead including Marlene, weather you sit here or get on that phone. In fact, either way I'm almost certain of it, with the exclusion of one variable. What I'm trying to explain to you, which I will now say in even simpler terms which might have a chance of getting through your skull is: you have to treat this like any other mission, ask me to hypnotize you to belive it's 1944 if you have to, or call up the undertaker and order Marlene's coffin right now."


	14. Rescue

"Alright, people, update me on the situation." Skipper barked, strolling back into the centre of the room.

"Well, uh, Hans continues to demand that you answer the phone." Private reported. Skipper certainly had made a fast recovery. Well, he always had been an unsinkable cork, Private wasn't surprised that hadn't changed after all these years, "He hasn't killed any more of the hostages, though he continually threatens to…"

"Hurry it up, kid! What kind of a war are we fighting if we're letting enemy agents just stroll right in to the Zoo and set up camp!" Skipper interrupted, "I want entrance strategies!"

"Well, sir, we still don't seem to have any openings, but I'll continue to monitor radio traffic and our reconnaissance teams." Private replied.

"'War'?" Rockgut whispered. Kowalski grimaced.

"Sorry, sir. I had to hypnotize him to think it was 1943." He replied sheepishly. "He thinks he just escaped from Blowhole's POW camp – science help him if that fool decides to stroll in now."

"Duly noted." Rockgut replied quietly, "I'll pass the word on not to correct him."

"'You'll continue to monitor radio traffic?'" Skipper repeated mockingly, "I want action. Women!" He rolled his eyes at Private. "Lt. Kowalski, get me ears on Hans, and then you can tell me why the hell you've got a girl doing a man's job."

"Apparently, he also still think's Private's a girl." Kowalski muttered to Rockgut, "Yes, sir. Uh, Private?" The confused Penguin was already starting to suspect that, as usual, Kowalski was behind any strange happenings, "Uh, take notes on what Rockgut has to say." Private got a look that told Kowalski he certainly hoped Rockgut was going to tell him what was going on. "Alright, Skipper, the second phone on the right connects to Hans' office, and I'll have my analysis of the situation in front of you in the next 30 seconds. Uh, how much do you remember about the current situation…?"

"Hans didn't turn out to be who he thought he was, his whole disillusioned ethicist or whatever you called it act must have just been to gain our attention, and he's holed up on the top floor of the Zoo threatening to kill hostages, including that girl from the cabaret… the pretty brunette, what was her name… Marlene, right." Skipper replied, "I had another one of those black outs, right?"

"Yes sir. Also, you've been talking to him for ten minutes already. Uh, your blackout was likely caused by the death of the three officers who went up there." Kowalski replied. Skipper nodded thoughtfully.

"Damn shame. I'll make sure he pays for it before I bring the spy in for interrogation." Skipper answered calmly before picking up the phone. "Alright, Hans, I'm back. What do you want?"

"For the last time, there's nothing on this earth you could possibly offer that I'd care about." Hans replied shortly, "All I hear in your pointless questions are pathetic pleas for mercy."

"And all I can hear is a guy who's given up and is hoping he can make a loud last stand to leave a mark for himself, when the fact of the matter is, you're just a pawn who's been cut loose." Skipper countered. "So you say you're going to kill everyone up there? What stops me from breaking down the door if you're going to do that anyhow?"

"Hope." Hans replied, "You've got too much of it, judging by how you're still trying to reason with me. I know you're going to stay right there and listen…"

"Oh, you think I'm bluffing? Just try me. I've dealt with a lot of guys like you and I'm going to deal with a lot more after you're dead, so…"

"Do you want me to put Marlene on so those can be the last words she hears you say…?"

"Lay one hand on her and your life expectancy shortens to as long as it takes me to get to your floor!" Skipper snapped. Then he frowned, as if confused by his own strong reaction.

"And this is why Blowhole isn't half the genius he claims he is." Hans sighed, "The way to get to you isn't through some elaborate mind game or crazy inventions. I've never been in the situation of losing the woman I care about, so I wouldn't know first-hand, but threatening the girlfriend does seem to send you to pieces."

"You've got Lola too, huh? Now you've really…"

"Wait, Lola?" Hans interrupted. The line went silent as Skipper also seemed to detect the sudden change in Hans' tone. "Put Kowalski on the line."

"You think you've got a better chance with my lieutenant? Unless you've forgotten about Doris, I think he wants you dead even more than I do…"

"Hand me over to Kowalski now."

Skipper shrugged and turned to call the lieutenant over, but Kowalski was already standing behind him, looking deathly pale. Skipper muttered an apology for bringing up Doris.

"Kowalski speaking." Kowalski picked up the phone.

"You hypnotized him to think it's 1943." Hans accused. Kowalski covered the receiver and winced.

"Yes."

"Very clever, Kowalski," Hans replied, "Thought it would ease the pain? Well turn him back. I want Skipper to remember everything, everyone he's lost interfering with my business when he loses the last thing he has left, and that it was all his fault."

"That is far from what is considered an incentive. Perhaps we can make a deal if you were to release one of the hostages…"

"This is my counter offer: I want to hear Skipper is back to normal or I kill one of the hostages now."

"Alright, give me five minutes." Kowalski set the receiver down on the table. "Skipper, get over here. Listen to me: 'Doris Blowhole'."

"Hi' password' a'ways Doris." Rico commented. But nothing seemed to happen."

"And?" Skipper replied blankly. "You've really got to move on, Kowalski. She's on the wrong side of the Atlantic and the wrong side of the war."

"I don't understand it. Why didn't it work?" Kowalski frowned.

"Why didn't what work?"

"You're still hypnotized. What year is it?"

"Hypnotized? It's 1943."

"'Doris Blowhole'." Nothing happened, "Great science, why isn't this working?! Skipper, you need to remember! The year's 1960…!"

"What are you talking about, Kowalski? You've hypnotized yourself again, haven't you?" Skipper snapped, "You always pick the worst times for your little experiments!"

"What's happening?" The tinny reproduction of Hans' voice demanded.

"Technical difficulties!" Kowalski replied hurriedly, "I don't understand it, he's not responding to the key word! Give me a little more time!"

"Not likely." Kowalski heard the phone drop to the desk, followed by footsteps. There was a scream, and the sound of someone being dragged towards the phone. "Introduce yourself."

"Agent… Leonard Somnus Jr.!" Replied a terrified agent. Kowalski remembered him vaguely. This was his third week on the job.

"Get Skippar back to his old self. I'm losing patience." Hans ordered. Kowalski was already scribbling frantically on his clipboard, but half of what he wrote didn't even seem to make sense to him. The whole situation seemed to defy prediction and the science it was based on.

"Skipper," Kowalski began, trying to sound more calm and collected and less paniced than he currently was. "I need you to relax your paranoia just for a few seconds and trust me…"

"I don't want to hear the hypnosis talking, Kowalski," Skipper cut him off, "I want to hear options that are going to rescue those hostages."

"Don't belive me? Ask everyone else!" Kowalski exclaimed, "Rockgut, what year is this?"

"1960." Rockgut replied.

"Private?"

"It really is 1960, Skippah."

"Rico?"

"Ni'een sixty."

"See?" Skipper paused, and several seconds passed without an immediate contradiction.

"Really, Kowalski? You hypnotized everyone else too?" Skipper demanded, "turn them all back to normal right now. I wouldn't be surprised if you'll be court-martialled for this."

"Give me a minute or two!" Kowalski shouted into the phone before hanging up and turning back to Skipper. It took possibly the most self-control Kowalski had used in the past five years to keep his voice calm and measured.

"Skipper, I had to do that, because Hans is delusional. He thinks it's 1960." Kowalski replied, hoping he was a better liar than people told him he was, "He's highly unstable right now, and bringing about a psychological crisis might endanger the hostages, so you need to play along with him and pretend it's 1960. If he asks you any questions, I'll be listening on the other line, and I'll give you an answer based on my calculations of what he is most likely to believe the world will be like in the future." Skipper nodded.

"Why didn't you just tell me that before?" He demanded, muttering something about scientists being in the lab too long and picked up the phone. "Hans, you still there?"

"How are you feeling Skipper? By the way, would you mind telling me the name of the current president?" Kowalski saw Skipper's lips about to form Franklin D. Roosevelt, but waited for Kowalski.

"Eisenhower!" Kowalski hissed, "Dwight D. Eisenhower!"

"Dwight D. Eisenhower." Skipper repeated.

"Good, Kowalski's got you back to normal." Hans answered, and Skipper gathered Kowalski had guessed correctly, "Alright, Skipper, I'm willing to make a deal. I'm willing to release the hostages, but I want a guarantee I'll get out of here. Put a helicopter on the roof within ten minutes."

"That's impossible! I can't get one that fast!" Skipper protested.

"Last I checked the speed of those new helicopters and the distance between here and the nearest one of them, yes you can."

"And you think the Air Corps is just going to hand me one in the time frame you're suggesting, no time for questions, because I said pretty please?"

"No, Skipper, and Kowalski – I assume you're listening too – I expected to catch Skipper out on his dates. I think you mean the Air Force, Skipper. It's been called that since 1947. Maybe now you'll take me more seriously."

Kowalski wouldn't forget the following gunshot any more than he'd forget the moment he'd seen Doris dead on the floor of that warehouse.

* * *

Private watched the situation deteriorate. There was no other way to put it. Kowalski, naturally, blamed everyone but himself, including Skipper, before turning it on himself. The process was sped up by the fact that everyone blamed Kowalski. Hans had another hostage and Skipper still wouldn't snap out of it. The whole room was a blur of motion, though none of it was helpful, so effectively, they were all standing still.

"K'walski?"

"Don't bother me now, Private!" Kowalski had snapped in reply.

"It's really important…"

But even when Private had said what he had to say in the hopes Kowalski would hear it, Kowalski had just talked over him and hadn't picked up a word.

Something bothered Private about the whole situation. Well, actually, just one tiny part of it. Everyone was running about so much, which was probably why nobody else had picked up on it. Private, who had been resigned to secondary communications analysis, effectively a glorified switchboard operator and secretary, had started to scrutinize the details, since he was barred from doing anything else to help. It had taken away the edge of being forced to listen, with nothing he could do. And Skipper had been trying to protect him.

"Skippah!" Private called. Even as he got his leader's attention, his pen drew a sharp black line across the floor plans. "I think I've found a way in. There's a service stairway nobody seems to have noticed up until now. It's been bricked up on Hans' side, as you can see, so he might not have realized it's there, but some carefully placed demolition could get you in." Private just hoped that in everyone's excitement, nobody would look twice at the hastily drawn line, "It runs parallel to the main stairway. I think a team of a few men could make it through."

"Kowalski, Rico!" Skipper ordered, "Got an idea of where that is?"

"Yes, sir." Kowalski replied as Skipper grabbed the nearest functional rifel. Kowalski followed suit, and Rico didn't have to, since he was already armed to the teeth.

"Not you, Private, stay here and monitor radio traffic." Skipper ordered. Not at all unexpected. They were gone less than five seconds after Skipper had said that, and now Private had the microphone all to himself.

"Hans?" He began tentatively, "Before you interrupt me, I've absolutely no interest in making a deal…"

* * *

"I can't seem to find any kind of opening, sir." Kowalski reported. "The walls are all quite solid."

"Then double check! You saw the plans!" Skipper hissed in reply, "You know I do not take failure as an answer…"

"Well I can't make a staircase appear where there isn't one, no matter how much you want it." Kowalski snapped back, "the plans must have been flawed. There is nothing here." Kowalski might have said more, but Skipper was already started towards the main staircase.

"Wha' oo doin'?" Rico demanded. "Oo head' t'wards 'is fron' door."

"What else can we do?" Skipper replied, peering around the edge of the stairs, "You heard him, he's going to kill those hostages anyway."

"I guess a full frontal assault is their only chance." Kowalski admitted reluctantly.

"On my mark we charge. Rico blasts the door, we take Hans out before he can do any damage." Skipper stated, "Shoot to kill. Those hostages are more valuable than his information value. All good?" There were no objections, "Mark."

Skipper and Kowalski and Rico raced up the stairs at record pace. Rico was all ready to blast down the door the moment he saw it. The metallic sound, echoed by the stairway into indistinguishability, only increased their resolve. This was their only chance.

It wasn't, as the situation proved when they burst through the door of the main stairway.

The three Penguins stopped dead in their tracks, Kowalski almost stumbling over Skipper and Rico half way through the door. The bank-valt-esq steel door that had stood between them and Hans was open. Hans was stood a few feet in front of it. The moment he saw them, he raised his hands carefully and deliberately.

"Drop the gun, now!" Kowalski ordered, his training from a long list of police raids kicking in. The gun clattered to the floor unthreateningly and Hans waited patiently as Rico and Skipper raced forwards, grabbing the prisoner roughly without hesitation. The sound of footsteps behind them made Kowalski turn around, only for the door to open, revealing Private. The youngest member of the team raced across the floor towards Hans before Kowalski or the arriving officers could stop him.

"I'm sorry." Private spoke holding out a light brown file. Hans' arm moved like lightening, and Rico stumbled back, freeing the criminal's right hand. He snatched the file from Private, scanning the file. Kowalski snatched it back less than a few seconds later and Skipper shoved him roughly against the wall as Rico handcuffed him and relived Hans of his spare knife. "No, let him read more!" Private protested, but Hans was unusually quiet.

"I knew Private couldn't lie anyway." He muttered. Skipper handed him over to the waiting officers, with Rico supervising before racing off to find Marlene. The hostages were already streaming out.

Kowalski turned the file over in his hand. 'Doris Blowhole' the cover read. It looked like a case file.

"I realised Hans didn't know Doris was dead from his comment to Skipper about not knowing what it's like to lose a loved one." Private explained quietly, "I think you'll find he's willing to cooperate."


	15. Talk Me Through This Again

"So, do you have any questions?" Private asked tentatively. "I mean, I think it's rather straightforward, but perhaps I should go over the salient points again just to be certain…"

"I understand it perfectly this time too, Private." Hans replied irritably, flicking disinterestedly through another file, "My ex-wife finally realized she'd gotten in over her head, tried to do what she naively thought was the right thing and Kowalski's replacement killed her to keep her from reaching a witness stand." He briefly glanced up to notice Private's perplexed expression, "Say what you like about how I treated her, but I usually went out of my way to keep her alive."

"Well, it still might take some time to sink in." Private concluded, "But if you ever need a good listener – if I do say so myself – I'll make time…"

"I'm not grieving, Private." Hans interrupted again, "With her luck I'm surprised it took her that long to get herself killed. I'm serious, I really don't care. I tried to kill her twice myself, even."

"What about when you exchanged yourself for Doris when Blue was holding her hostage?"

"I saw an opportunity to avoid arrest and investigation and potentially a kindred spirit." Hans answered, standing up and switching to another desk on the far side of the room, "as for the present, If I could help it, I'd wanted to live to fight another day, which is the only reason I surrendered."

"Do you think Hans is genuine, or is going out of his way to look like he's in denial just part of the act?" Kowalski asked. Standing just outside the closed door of the team's office he'd watched the whole conversation through one of the windows.

"Who knows how much is an act and how much is real when it comes to Hans…" Skipper replied, but paused thoughtfully. Kowalski didn't interrupt. "I think he's genuine." He finally answered. "I wouldn't call it love, but he was definitely obsessed with her…"

"Oo two gonna go 'n, 'r jus' gossip all 'ay?" Rico interrupted. Kowalski vaguely recollected the sound of the elevator reaching their floor behind them and Rico's heavy footsteps approaching them. The team's weapons expert pushed the door open and Skipper and Kowalski followed.

"Skippar and Kowalski, would it break up the team for the two of you to arrive on time?" Hans greeted far from cordially. "You lot really are good at cleaning this place up. Aside from a little wet paint you'd never know anything had happened here. I suppose my idea wasn't entirely original."

"If you were as smart as you like to pretend you are you'd stop bringing that one up," Kowalski interrupted, "You've still got your talent for making things worse for yourself."

"And yet somehow I'm still here and unscathed." Hans answered. "Anyway, I think we have an agreement to discuss before we can continue hurling veiled insults at each other. I'm not going to be greedy, I just want all the charges against me dropped in exchange for my help in catching 'Alius' as I believe you still call him."

"Now just one minute," Skipper protested, "this afternoon alone you've racked up enough charges to give you the death penalty enough times to kill a cat, and that's not including anything you've done since, during, or I'm willing to bet before the war."

"You need me because the good guys can only think inside the box." Hans countered, "You have a set of rules, Private calls them being sporting, Kowalski calls them principles, I have no idea what Rico calls them but I know he follows them too, despite what you all accuse him of. You use a variety of different names, Skippar, 'just being decent', 'chivalry', 'Penguin and a gentleman'… you get my point. Alius doesn't have any of those restrictions which gives him an advantage. You need someone who can play on his level, namely me."

"Then why can't we just replace you with the nearest sociopath we can find with a better offer?" Kowalski asked.

"Intelligence and familiarity with the situation and the opponents." Hans answered. Kowalski seemed to agree with that.

"We'll drop all the charges Penguin has against you, but you're on your own with the Army." Kowalski counteroffered.

"Good enough." Hans accepted.

"You do know this deal is contingent on you helping us." Skipper pointed out, noting Hans' inaction. Hans hopped off the desk and strolled over to the files he'd been perusing before.

"Private's been briefing me on your difficulties in gathering evidence against Alius," Hans replied, sorting through the files and selecting one of them, though his hand covered the name. Skipper wondered if he was deliberately trying to keep them in suspense. "I think I might have your in."

"I thought I'd just remind you," Private cut in, "that we can't just kill Alius…"

"I know, I don't want the source of my immunity being investigated or incriminated. Regardless of how alive Alius is at the end of this, there does have to be at least probable cause." Kowalski's expression, however, betrayed that he at least had no interest in this.

"So how exactly do you expect to get this evidence?" Kowalski demanded sceptically, "Has Private gone over the _details_ of why I've never been able to get anything on him…?"

"Well, aside from the fact you were missing a Skipper, something I can't fix, it's because he gets his staff to do his dirty work followed by a cover up team." Hans interrupted.

"He runs the gang like his own private army, they're disciplined and they're terrified of him." Kowalski corrected, "The 'cover up team' as you've called it is an elite task force within his organization. They're efficient, and they work on multiple levels to make sure nothing is left behind. I saw you skimming their files earlier, so I'll give you the short version: first there's Clemson Rufus, a hit man who can take out anyone who knows anything, then if he left anything behind Archie DuVoleur, the lawyer, gets it all thrown out of court, and while he's doing that Barry Malone, his public relations guy, turns everyone against you."

"Then wouldn't a member of this cover up team be in the best position to incriminate him?" Hans replied. He dropped the file he'd been obscuring before back on the desk and opened it to the first page, "You remember Barry, don't you? He used to work for me, something I'm certain he doesn't want coming out."

"ee try ta get 'im with wha' ee do in th' war, bu' Alius a'ways go' the 'nvestigation drop'." Rico countered.

"He even produced a burned body to explain the end of your former lieutenant." Private concurred.

"Same way as he got rid of his Skipper." Kowalski muttered.

"I know Barry," Hans countered, "and for a master manipulator, we're going to require a slightly more psychological approach."

"How?"

"Oh, I have the outline of a plan, but I want a lay of the land first." Hans replied whimsically.

"Rico, keep an eye on him." Skipper ordered. "I want you calling in every fifteen minutes, got it?" Skipper started towards the door, followed closely by Kowalski. "I've gotta pick Marlene up from the hospital, so you can reach me on the car phone for the first couple of calls." Skipper left the office. Skipper glanced over his shoulder to see the door slam shut behind him. He paused. "'S not love, but something. Hopefully it will keep him on our side."

* * *

"Ah still don' ge' wha' ya wanna do 'ere." Rico grumbled as the elevator ascended further after dropping off the rest of the elevators passengers. Well, more accurately Rico had chased them out of the elevator because he wanted to ask some questions without being listened in on. Anyway, he was doing them a favour by getting them away from Hans' irritating comments. "'side from iden'ifyin' y'self."

"Like I said, I just want to get a lay of the land." Hans replied, "Who knows, maybe if you had done a little reconnaissance yourself you wouldn't need me." Rico just grunted irritably. He was pretty certain Hans was just wasting his time, and worse, he was giving Alius the satisfaction of wasting it too. He'd already made them wait half an hour on one of the lower floors before finally allowing them up to his office. And Rico had a feeling that wasn't the beginning of the wait.

The elevator doors opened on the top floor and Rico wondered what kind of motive Hans had to waste his time. Maybe he was just trying to buy himself time while he thought of a plan.

"Agent Rico, am I correct?" Grinned the most central of the three men who'd clearly been waiting for their elevator to arrive. Great, now he had to deal with Clemson too, "Of course I'm correct, I'm always right when it comes to faces. Who's your friend, I haven't seen him before?"

"Agent Hanson, Boston office." Hans replied. Rico noticed he'd adopted the uncertain manner of a nervous new agent and a pristine Boston accent. He seemed to like that one. Clemson still seemed unconvinced and seemed to be about remark something along the lines of that Hans looked a little old for a new recruit and likely that he had some kind of contact in Boston who hadn't been able to identify him, "Records and evidence."

"First time in the field, then?" Hans nodded nervously, then glanced awkwardly at Rico like he realized he shouldn't have said that. Clemson seemed to buy the act. "Well, let's hope it's fairly uneventful and you can go back to your filing cabinets." He concluded with a sweeping, almost pseudo-royal gesture for them to follow him.

Clemson led them to an office to the side, not Alius' office, and the door was shut behind them.

"So, what brings two agents of Penguin here?" Clemson asked, "And do I have to call Archie?" Rico was tempted to sarcastically reply '_that's a good question_'.

"Tha' b'tween me an' y' boss." Rico answered curtly, "An' 'ee can eitha ma' time ta talk ta 's nice' 'r 'ee can brin' 'im back ta HQ."

"It's really quite mundane, it won't take long." Hans added less threateningly. But Rico could already tell something was wrong. Clemson didn't reply immediately, instead almost striking a pose as he thought.

"Just one more thing, then you can see him." Clemson finally spoke, "Agent Hansen, would you mind going with this gentleman here?" Clemson motioned to one of the men who'd greeted them at the elevator, "I'll be with you in a moment."

* * *

Clemson had gone back and forth between him and Hans for almost an hour. His motive was obvious, he was questioning his two 'suspects' separately.

_"He's clearly no rookie or pencil pusher." _Clemson has begun the interrogation, "_He's been carefully dodging the cameras on the way up here, and the way he positioned himself again to keep his face out of the picture was the one time too many to be a coincidence. He knows what he's doing , and I want to know why you're trying to sneak an experienced agent in as a lab tech._"

Fortunately, Kowalski had gotten them to prepare a backup story just in case Hans was made, though at the time he'd protested that even Skipper hadn't been able to spot him. He explained to Clemson that Hans was actually an experienced profiler from Rockgut's office, and they hadn't wanted Alius to alter his behaviour because he'd known he was being studied. Hans repeated the same story, judging by Clemson's response after he'd returned to Rico and given the order to have him released and Hans would follow. Now Rico, standing a few feet away from Alius' office, had just been told, not surprisingly, that Alius didn't have any time in his schedule for them. However, at this point it had been eighteen minutes since Hans was supposed to have joined him.

"'Ey, y' seen Agen' Hanson?" Rico asked Alius' secretary.

"I think he must have left without you," She replied, "So, about rescheduling…"

* * *

"I just can't believe it, Rico." Skipper lectured, "All you had to do was keep an eye on him, and he just walks off on you."

"Oo know wha' Alius people li'." Rico muttered apologetically, "Y' go' play along with they' game' 'r they' star' makin' trouble 'ith ya superi'rs."

"Private, how's the trace on Clemson going?" Skipper called across the room.

"Still working on it, sir!" Private shouted back.

"I don't quite understand why we're diverting resources to locate Clemson." Kowalski asked.

"I figure Clemson helped him escape, or took him somewhere or at least he was the last person to see Hans and now he's missing." Skipper replied, "Odds are if we find him we'll get a lead on Hans."

"In Rico's defence, it's pretty clear that Hans carefully planned the flaw in his cover to get them separated." Marlene added, returning to the original topic. "Maybe it was his plan from when he surrendered, you know what he's like." Marlene bit her lip. Skipper could tell she'd been all in favour of killing him while they'd had the chance. Skipper, depending on how many bodies resurfaced before they found Hans again, was wondering if he hadn't made the wiser decision.

"Do you think maybe he's going after Alius on his own?" Kowalski asked, "That could work in our favour."

"Depending on the collateral damage." Marlene replied. "And anyway, who says he'd just stop with Alius like a good little criminal? Are the paintings safe…?"

"Skippah, this is kind of unrelated, but related: I've gotten a call from the NYPD…"

"All I want to know for now, Private, is where Hans or Clemson are." Skipper interrupted.

"Okay, well it's related," Private answered, "Joey says Clemson's just been found dead hanging from an elevated line in Williamsburg… One second, Skippah, Fred says you've got another call, I've asked him to put it through on line C…" Skipper immediately made a dive for the phone almost before it began to ring.

"Yeah?"

"Hello Skippar," Hans's voice greeted casually, "meet me at the Copacabana in 30 minutes." He hung up.

* * *

Skipper and the team actually arrived within 24 minutes after some record setting driving on Rico's part. The back door had been left open, though that wasn't unusual for Julian, and Skipper could hear what sounded like a muffled argument inside. The original plan had been to go in guns a blazin' and secure Hans as quickly as possible, but Skipper's gut told him this might be something he wanted to hear. He motioned for the others to move quietly on his lead, and slipped silently through the unlocked door.

"… Where's Hans?" Barry's irritating, arrogant voice demanded, though this time there was more fear than the usual bucket load of snobbery. "You think you've got it hard now, believe me, you don't want to get on the wrong side of someone like me…"

"How the hell would I know? He only told me to tell you where to find Clemson's body." Lola replied.

"Why not call me himself, then? And what am I doing here, I've got an office, don't I, and…?"

Kowalski hadn't noticed Hans was there till Kowalski spotted him walking right past him out of the corner of his eye, but at that point he was already strolling through the door, beckoning for them to follow him.

"Well, we wouldn't want your boss knowing you were talking with me." Hans answered Barry's tirade of demands. Barry spun around on his heel, glaring at Hans, though under the façade of toughness, he looked more like a cornered animal.

"Y… you!" Barry exclaimed, "What the hell are you doing here?" Barry didn't give him a chance to answer, "Whatever you want, you're wasting your time! You'll never be able to prove I'm anything other than what my cover says, you've got no leverage over me…"

"I think you've misunderstood the message." Hans interrupted.

"How could I understand the message? You've barely said a damn thing!"

"I've said plenty," Hans corrected, "Clemson was the message." Barry froze, suddenly looking a lot less comfortable.

"Kill me, and you'll have to answer to more than me." Barry countered, "You're already practically a walking zombie for killing Clemson…"

"A walking zombie? You know I find your strange loyalty hilarious." Hans scoffed. "As I understand it, you're protecting someone who nearly killed you the moment you met."

"A lot of things have changed since you got lost somewhere two decades ago."

"I know you've always resented him for that," Hans continued, "your greed's let you cover that up, but do you really want to die for him? He can't pay you off once you're in the ground. That's your choice, though. Tearing apart your new identity piece by piece will be almost adequate compensation, and killing you afterwards will make it worth my time. Then, once you've been exposed for what you were, I wonder what that will do to that society girlfriend of yours and…" Hans didn't bother to finish his threat. Barry had already cracked.

"Alright." He mumbled, "I think I _might_ know something that _could_ be useful to you…"

* * *

"My contacts have indeed confirmed that the ledger Barry described does exist." Hans stated. He seemed to be continuing as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. Private was really the only one who cared about that. The rest of them were too focused on what he had to say, "The sources are a little fuzzy about what's in it, but it's always important. Barry says it keeps track of the money laundering. If everything important goes through there, then we'll easily be able to trace where it came from and where it went to. You'll have a case in no time."

"Yeah, but the trick will be extracting it." Private countered. "You don't think he keeps it in a locked drawer in his desk."

"Barry gave us his location." Skipper replied, "I've had Kowalski mark it up on his plan of the floor."

"I don't like the idea of you extracting it alone, with us apparently just running distraction." Marlene cut in, looking at Hans.

"I should extract it alone because nobody in the building who matters who I've left in a position to talk, aside from Alius, knows me, and I have the abilities needed to pull it off." Hans answered.

"I'll give you that, but I agree with Marlene, after the stunt you just pulled you're not going anywhere on your own." Skipper countered. "You're going to be wired, and Kowalski's going to be listening the whole time, just in case you turn on us. On top of that, you're going to be bringing a helper, courtesy of Penguin's San Francisco office."

"Yes, I noticed him standing by the car. Just tell him to stay out of my way." Hans muttered. "Are we done clearing up the details, so we can get this ledger before Barry does something stupid inevitably to give us all away?"

"Kowalski, take Hans down to the car." Skipper ordered, "I've got to set up a good excuse for Rockgut for us to be out of the office. I'll catch up." The others raced out of the room like Skipper had fired the starters gun. He still waited for the dial on the elevator to descend three floors before beginning to dial the phone.

"Hi, Archie… Don't interrupt me, I'm a little low on time, but I thought your boss might want to know someone he isn't on the best terms with is going to try to steal a particularly valuable ledger." Skipper hung up and started after the others.


	16. Suicide Mission

"Where are you now?" Skipper demanded sharply for the eighth time that hour.

"I'm about a block away, now." Hans replied, clearly fed up with the frequency of the inquiries, "You know, Skippar, I do have a license, at least five of them last I counted, but I'm starting to get the feeling you don't trust me to drive."

"You're right, I don't." Skipper answered.

"The fact that it's stolen doesn't help either." Kowalski added, briefly appropriating the radio from Skipper. Skipper quickly ordered him back with a warning that it was the Skipper's job to monitor Hans, not the lieutenant's.

"I stole it from the enemy, I'd think that would count in my favour." Hans protested. Certainly, as per the plan, he and his Penguin chaperone had hijacked the truck from a group of Alius' less than legal employees just after the truck had left the docks. Barry had said it was carrying chemicals for some experiment Alius was working on that were far from legal, and so would be going directly to Consolidated Amalgamated. However, the part that had not inspired trust was that after Hans had gotten the signs and counter signs out of the drivers, he'd had no intention of handing them over to the police as planned. It had taken several stern threats from the supervising agent to get him to stick the plan.

"I don't believe in "enemy of my enemy is my friend"." Skipper countered and ended the conversation for now.

"'Eah, 'caus y' thin' e'reone's th' enemy." Rico chuckled. Skipper wasn't amused. "A'right, nah more jokin'. Hans def'nitly up ta somethin'."

"He has been unusually cooperative." Skipper agreed. "He's playing too nice not to be suspicious, there's no doubt he's up to something."

"I wonder what it could be?" Kowalski mused, clearly more interested in the intellectual challenge than the reality that whatever Hans was up to would be serious. "Perhaps he's the scout for a full on space squid invasion," Skipper seemed to like that one, "I wouldn't put it past him to team up with anyone who'd offer to drop some of the charges against him – our own case is evidence of that. Then, of course, there's always the possibility that he's come back as an agent for some foreign power…"

"I personally am in favour of the likely possibility that he's doing this for Doris and no one else." Private suggested, and wasn't exactly met with a standing ovation. "Well, it is a strong possibility…"

"Alright, I'm just about to approach the service entrance." Hans interrupted over the radio. Immediately the team gathered around the radio in a manner that reminded him of how he and his cousin had crowded around Uncle Nigel's radio when the Lunicorns had come on. Immediately Skipper heard the engines cut out, then code words were exchanged with someone outside the vehicle. The gate to the service entrance clanked and clattered open, sounding unusually rusty for one of the most high tech firms in the city. The truck drove in, then Hans cut the engine and got out. Skipper heard the sound of a soft thump that interrupted the question the guard had just started to ask, and Skipper decided to assume that Hans had only knocked him out. Private winced at the possibility of the alternative.

"Stop worrying, Private, I'm only following the plan." Hans whispered into the bug Kowalski had wired into his jacket. "By the way, the Trojan Horse-delivery truck was a not to you." Private wasn't entirely sure he liked being referenced by a criminal, but said thank you anyway because it was polite. Hans seemed to find that funny.

"Wai' 'ee was watchin' tha'?" Rico muttered, "Boy, tha' guy really nee' ta move on."

"Move on to what?" Hans countered. Skipper could hear footsteps on concrete in the background, "You keep taking away what I move on to whenever I do." Kowalski immediately shut the mic off, with an apology for leaving it on.

"I'm surprised those sarcastic little remarks haven't gotten him killed yet." Marlene added with a more bitter note.

"You know, I think I've got it figured out." Kowalski spoke, interrupting the silence that had engulfed the room after Hans had used the excuse that the truck had broken down and he wanted a cup of coffee while they fixed it to get into the building. "It never made sense to me why Hans was cooperating. I mean, on the surface it makes sense that he'd want Penguin to drop his charges, but he's still got the army and three other nations to answer to. I mean, what's losing nine counts of murder when you've already got a dozen other death sentences?"

"'ee go' a alter'ate plan." Rico concurred, "Prob'ly 'ncludin' a 'scape plan."

"I don't think he's working for anyone else, otherwise we wouldn't have been able to hold on to him this long. I'd say whatever he's up to, he arranged it in the last 12 hours." He glanced around the office like just looking at it would reveal whatever the inanimate objects could have borne witness to. "Rico, go around the office and collect as much data as you can on Hans' movements. Marlene, call the switchboard and get me the outgoing call log…"

"Kowalski, we need to keep an eye on Hans, that's our first priority." Skipper interrupted. "Marlene, stick by the radio…"

"Skipper, you can watch Hans as much as you like, but if we can't predict his movements, we're sunk."

"Alright, Kowalski, you've got a point." Skipper admitted. The unusual lack of reluctance puzzled him slightly, "Uh, Marlene, actually, the best thing you can do is run a search on the Red Squirrel's movements. If anyone's involved, he is." Marlene shrugged and put down the phone, half dialled, and started for Rockgut's office. However, before the receiver had dropped, Private had grabbed it with a helpful smile and finished the last two numbers.

"Private, I need you back here!" Skipper snapped. There was a note of fear that seemed strangely out of place

"I'll just be one second." Private replied cheerfully. "Oh, hello Cupid. Yes, it's me, Private. Would you be able to read me back all the calls from this office starting now and going back over the last 24 hours. Thanks." Private covered the receiver with his hand, "Alright, I'm going to read them out, tell me to make a note of any that flag…" Cupid said something on the other end of the phone, "Okay, outgoing call to POsidon-3694 at 09:45…"

"That was me." Kowalski replied, "Next."

"… Outgoing to MInerva-8975 at 07:15…"

"Skip to last night, Private."

"No, we should hear all of them." Skipper cut in, but didn't have any grounds to protest. Hans had spent the morning casing Consolidated Amalgamated and was nowhere near the office so he didn't continue the protest. Rico gave him a puzzled look.

"Okay, the last call yesterday evening was to APollo-5759… The one before that was to…"

"Wait a minute, Private," Kowalski interrupted. "That's Consolidated Amalgamated. What was the extension?"

"Cupid says Archie Duvalier was requested." Private replied. "That was at 20:14 last night."

"What was Hans doing calling Archie." Skipper asked. Private repeated the question to Cupid and shrugged as if to say she'd said she didn't know. Private continued to explain that the caller had sounded rushed and barely spoke long enough to request the number. Since at the time she hadn't thought anything of the call so hadn't bothered to remember every moment before taking the next call and the call was very brief, she didn't have a very detailed description of the voice: male, North-East American, average pitch, clearly spoken but not quite like a radio announcer. She could believe it could have been Kowalski or Skipper, or yes, possibly Hans imitating Skipper – she'd heard that when one of the office girls had passed one of the comparison recordings around the office, and by-golly she could hardly tell the two apart and Peggy had said…

"Thanks Cupid." Private interrupted and ended the call. "I hate to think it, but do you think perhaps Hans has been working for Alius this whole time?"

"Mighta bee' in o' the murd'r, 'oo." Rico added. "No' like 'ee ain' try ta kill Doris b'fore…"

"Wait a minute." Kowalski cut him off with a strangely thoughtful look. His clipboard calculations were frantic. "No… No… this doesn't make sense at all…" He looked up, "It couldn't have been Hans, I remember, he was waiting in the car with me at 20:13. I distinctly remember. I checked my watch then because Skipper was taking a while…" Already, all eyes had silently moved to Skipper. Asking what Skipper had been doing at 20:14 would come under the heading of asking a stupid question. And Skipper at least claimed he did not give stupid answers.

"Alright, Kowalski, I called Archie." Skipper admitted quietly, then seemed to become more emboldened with a look of self righteousness . "Since the moment he surrendered I knew Hans was up to something, but I don't care what." This resulted in some shocked expressions from his audience, "I've been playing this game with him for too long to risk digging my way through all the mind games and motives to find out exactly what he's up to. Anyway, I think we can all agree that if I'd killed Hans years ago I would have saved a number of good people."

"Two wrongs don't make a…"

"Not now, Private." Skipper interrupted. Private bit his lip and went quiet. "I called Archie to…"

"I'm almost there." Hans' voice crackled over the radio, "Commencing radio silence. Skippar?"

"Go ahead." Kowalski replied, after which making doubly sure Hans couldn't hear their side of the conversation.

"I tipped off Archie," Skipper continued, "so that Alius would catch him in the act of attempting to steal the ledger, and kill him." Private looked like he was about to faint, while Kowalski looked severely puzzled. Rico's opinion on the matter couldn't be easily discerned. "Don't lecture me on something about that making us as bad as the people we go after. If I killed at least half a dozen Hanses then I would be. You wouldn't be objecting if this was another hostage situation and I had an opportunity to take him out before he killed a hostage. It's exactly the same thing…"

"Except we don't know he's actually going to kill anyone else," Private protested, "We have to give him the benefit of the doubt: maybe what happened to Doris changed his mind – if anything we should give him the opportunity to face trial."

"I've been trying to get him into a court room for years!" skipper countered. "It's not often we get a chance to kill two birds with one stone: Alius kills Hans, then because we've got Hans bugged, we've got Alius on tape committing murder."

"This isn't a two for one sale at the grocers, this is murder!"

"Are you sure you aren't mainly thinking of the third metaphorical bird." Kowalski asked uneasily, "This – revenge, I guess – will set at rest your perceived inability to prevent all of Hans' crimes."

"Three birds, even better. You've practically said yourself, Kowalski, that Alius is better off dead so he can't hurt anyone else…"

"Because I'd just lost the love of my life!" Kowalski protested, "I was also experimenting with intelligent zombie technology – which obviously wouldn't work because zombies are by definition brainless. Anyway, what I was suggesting wouldn't so easily lead back to us. You seem to be having a hard time getting this through your science denying cranium, but we are accountable to the law now, it's not the war anymore." Private was sure at least one of those was true, but not so much the other. Skipper, however, didn't seem to have changed his opinion. "What about this: we can warn Hans that Alius knows, so he'll kill Alius – it won't be murder because it's self-defence –" Private now had a very definite opinion of Kowalski's levels of truth bending, "Then we arrest Hans for murder."

"You have to get him out of there," Private chipped in, "I never served with a Skipper who would deceive anyone under his command onto an obvious suicide mission." Rico grunted in agreement.

"Hans won't be there for the arrest, he'll just vanish again." Skipper protested.

"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it." Private stated firmly as his hand rested insubordinately on the radio. "Hans always gives us another chance to bring him in, but if you want to act on Kowalski's scales of selfishness, we'll never get a chance to clear our consciences…"

_"… It seems your source was accurate, Archie." _A voice that chilled every member of the team to the bone spoke. The cold calculation that Skipper remembered from his brief meeting with the voice's owner filled every crisp, monotone word more clearly than he remembered. _"I recognise you, Hans, and I assume your friend is an associate of Penguin?_" However, Alius didn't wait for an answer, most likely because he already knew it. Two quick shots were fired in succession, the second cut off almost at the onset of the sound as the radio went to static, the listening device smashed by the second shot.


	17. Make Your Own Luck

"I guess you got your way, Skippah." Private muttered bitterly as Skipper knocked sharply on the door of the penthouse.

"Just think of all the people who are going to be a whole lot safer now." Skipper answered. Almost cutting off his reply, the door was opened by an aloof butler that Kowalski quickly brushed past with a wave of his badge, though he didn't doubt someone working closely for Alius already knew him by sight. The team sailed in quickly after him. They wanted to make the arrest before reporters clogged up the halls.

"Where's your boss?" Kowalski demanded of the butler, who looked strangely unperturbed, though that was probably what he was paid for.

"In the study, sir, he's been expecting you."

"Oh, he has, has he?" Kowalski remarked, "Even better." Kowalski had memorized the plans for every building Alius spent a significant amount of time in, so didn't wait for the butler to show them in. Alius was inside, casually rearranging some books on one of the large shelves that lined the room. Kowalski didn't waste any time.

"I guess you know the drill." Skipper spoke before Kowalski could, out of habit. All he got was a disinterested nod in reply. Skipper looked at Kowalski, then indicated that he'd let him do the honours.

"Lt. Peter Kowalski, you are under arrest for the murders of one John Doe, popularly known as 'Hans', and Agent…"

"Oh, is that the new charge you've trumped up for me?" Alius asked. "Frame me for the murder of a war criminal that died in 1949?"

"I was supposed to have died in that same plane crash too, and I can tell you he got out just as well as I did." Skipper countered. "What's the point of playing innocent, anyhow? You must have found the wire when you got rid of the bodies. We have the whole _premeditated_ murder on tape. Kowalski?" Kowalski set the tape recorder on the desk.

_"…It seems your source was accurate, Archie. I recognise you, Hans, and I assume your friend is an associate of Penguin…?"_

"Well that doesn't prove I killed him, all it proves is that I recognised someone I thought was Hans, two shots were fired, then the wire malfunctioned. He might have walked in on me while I was at the firing range, or he might have shot one of my people then turned his bug off." Alius observed, "In fact, you lack corpus delecti – oh, sorry, I'll translate: evidence a crime has even been committed. You don't have a body, do you?"

"We never do." Kowalski muttered.

"And it's not like he recently went missing. He's been missing for over ten years, in fact, officially he's been at the bottom of the English Channel all this time."

"Alright, I'll give you that." Kowalski admitted with a scowl. He chided himself that he really ought to have expected that for the time being, Alius would find a way to worm himself out of the first charge. "But you're still under arrest in the meantime. We have you on tape associating with and most likely harbouring a known fugitive. Sure, maybe your lawyers will get you off that, but think what that would do to your company's military contacts." Kowalski took a moment to enjoy that one. Tomorrow morning, Alius was going to wake up short about half his net worth. And Kowalski knew how much money meant to him.

"Actually, you don't." Alius countered, "You're trying to convict me on a recording from 1944, so before Hans was anything other than a lawful combatant. And don't try to convict me for espionage, the conversation was perfectly reasonable, since I was in intelligence at the time, undercover."

"I think you've blown up your lab one too many times." Skipper corrected. "I made that recording last night."

"Really?" Alius picked up the tape recorder from the desk.

"Go ahead and destroy it all you want, it's one of several copies."

"I don't doubt it. I'm going to play it again, and this time listen a little more closely to the background noise. You should thank me for stopping you before you embarrass yourselves in front of a jury."

_"…It seems your source…"_ The tape started to play again, but as they listened, sure enough, there was something else in the background. Kowalski recognised the fading crackle of a radio broadcast on an unreliable radio like the type he'd crowded around to hear news from home during the war.

_"…and Joe throws him out of first. The Yankees win two to nothing to capture their tenth world championship... Coach John Fletcher leads the Yankees in…"*_

"You know your baseball, Rico. When did the Yankees win their tenth World Series?" Alius asked. Rico grimaced.

"1943."

"You were knew we had Hans wired!" Skipper exclaimed, "You played that tape in the background so there wouldn't be a thing we could do about it!"

"I know you're very disappointed in your sources at the moment, but please do your best to remain rational?" Skipper looked like he was at the end of his self-control, "Now, a lot of people would call that fabricating evidence, but I held your job once, and I know how tempting it can be to jump to the conclusions based on unreliable sources. At least, that's what my statement in the papers will be. I think Barry's put me in the afternoon edition, but then sometimes they print me an extra. It helps if you own the paper. People should understand how you're jealous of the student's success over the master, though they might think hounding me this long is pushing it."

"Don't you dare print one word of…!"

"Freedom of speech, Skipper, people deserve to hear my side of the story before you slander me."

At this point Kowalski made the tactical move of directing Skipper towards the door, and managed to do it with Rico's assistance. Kowalski doubted he'd be able to answer for his own actions if he'd stayed behind any longer. Private, however, wasn't quite done.

"Do you ever feel anything for what you've done?" Private asked.

"The war affected everyone." Alius replied. Private nearly reached the point of scowling, then paused.

"You know, I think that may be truer than you intended. Well, if you consider crime and justice a war."

* * *

"We know he's guilty!" Skipper exclaimed, throwing the newspaper viciously in the direction of the desk. It knocked over a pile of Kowalski's papers, but he barely noticed. Alius had printed every word he threatened, "He practically admitted it, but…!

"…not in any way we can prove." Kowalski finished for him, "You've just summarized my life since 1952 when Penguin lost control of them."

"That never should have happened." Skipper snapped, "Dammit, I should have kept a closer eye on Alius. I could tell from the moment I met him what he was…"

"I know it's simpler to tell yourself that in hindsight, but I honestly don't think he was like that at the time," Private countered thoughtfully, "Being undercover for years broke him. If you want someone to blame, I think it really ought to be the people who sent them on that assignment…"

"Who? Your Uncle Nigel?"

"Well… Maybe the people above him ought to be blamed or… or whoever gave him that ridiculous idea!" Kowalski raised an eyebrow.

"Playing favourites much, Private?" Kowalski observed, then returned to the gloom that had absorbed him since they'd got back, "Anyway, this is pointless. We should have found a way to stop him back in 1945, but we didn't. Frankly, this is just another in a line of murders we know he was behind but can't prove any more than if he was innocent. Sometimes I don't even know why we try, it's not like we'll ever catch him out. I'm a genius, potentially one of the smartest people in the world, and he's still always two steps ahead of him. It's almost like the game's rigged…"

"I' is." Rico replied, "'ee paid off th' 'ther players."

"Don't interrupt me Rico, I'm expressing my hopelessness," Kowalski cut him off, "Statistically, I've been wasting my life this whole time…"

"I swear, I am two steps away from taking matters into my own hands," Skipper growled, "I'm still officially dead, right? You can't charge a dead man with murder…"

"Don't think you'll be any different to all the other people who've tried to take the law into their own hands." Kowalski cut him off, "It's not as easy as you imagine."

"K'walski!" Private gasped, "You didn't…"

"No, but off the record I gave a few tips to someone who did try. They're dead now." Kowalski replied, "And the fact of the matter is, we have rules that don't let us play on his level. Rockgut gives us more freedom and resources than the police…"

"An' ye' they take 'ome mo' money." Rico grumbled.

"Don't get mad at me that I don't let you take bribes." Kowalski corrected, "The game is rigged. Unfortunately, we're barred from using his most effective tactics." Private was about to object that those tactics were corruption, intimidation and murder, but Kowalski wasn't standing for any more interruptions. "And…"

"Then what stops us from creating our own tactics." Skipper interrupted with a strangely thoughtful expression, "Maybe we're not about to go down to his level, but we are going to have to bend the rules a bit."

"How do we do that without landing ourselves in jail?" Kowalski countered.

"Well, we can make our own luck, since we don't have much of it right now." Kowalski was giving him a strange look, "And luck's code for incriminating evidence. Alius says there's no proof of a crime? We'll make one." Private grimaced.

"I get the feeling that wherever Hans is, he's smiling." He muttered, but no one else offered any objection to Skipper's plan.

* * *

Skipper already had a semblance of an idea, but within half an hour and a few options from Kowalski, it was a fully workable plan. Fifteen minutes later, everyone was once again assembled in Kowalski's office.

"Alright, so here's the current situation," Skipper began for the benefit of Maurice, who'd nust arrived. "Alius killed Hans and one of our agents. As much as I'd rather bring justice to one of our own, we'd made sure he was officially posted to London at the time to keep the operation secret, which I'm sure is where his body will turn up. There's no point working on that case because we'd have to dig up so much dirt on ourselves we'd be practically handing Alius enough to defend the charges. So we'll have to focus on Hans.

"One good thing that came out of that recording is that we know the means and motive. We know Hans was killed by a single gunshot to the left lung – we didn't hear anything from our man, which means he was killed by the first shot, and the second shot destroyed the wire so we know the impact area. The benefit to this is that if a body ever turns up, it won't disprove our crime scene. Now, there's six parts to this plan, and I've assigned one part to each of us.

"Kowalski, you're going to put that lab and obsession with seemingly pointless little details to use to make us a crime scene. I want evidence of a struggle, shooting and then disposal of the body. We'll use trace evidence found at the scene to identify our victim, killer and accessories.

"Marlene, you're going to get Kowalski that trace evidence and anything else he needs to establish definite proof that Alius was at our crime scene. At the same time, you can also plant evidence on Alius if needed.

"Private, you're on damage control. We've done some stuff we aren't proud of, and we don't want that leading back to us. Your cousin says he's got a lead on Blowhole, we need to find him and get him out of the country so he's not connected to us. You'll also make sure Marlene doesn't get arrested for that stunt with the paintings.

"Maurice, you're handling intelligence. You can use your position as bartender at the Copacabana to pick up all the intel you can on Alius' movements. Your other task will be creating a trail for Hans. Hans previously didn't officially exist, which is what Alius is already using against us, so we'll make him exist. He had to exist to go missing.

"Rico, you're going to destroy anything Alius could use to defend himself. I want his alibi in pieces by the end of the week.

"I'm going to keep Alius busy in the media so he can't look to closely at us."

"How are you going to do that?" Private cut in.

"I was kind of famous after the war ended, right? At least, I got in the papers when my plane crashed." Private nodded, "Well, I'm going to come back from the dead, with some less than flattering things to say about my late protege's lieutenant. Kowalski's got the more detailed instructions for your assignments. I suggest we all start as soon as we can."

*** Background noise transcribed from a 1943 World Series highlight film**


End file.
